#the grey garden kin

[problematickincalls]

Hi, i am kcalb from the grey garden/deep sea prisoner’s works. looking for etihw. please be an adult if you interact with this, i am in my twenties.

~🌹~

[problematickincalls1]

long shot, but i am ivlis okegom / the grey garden looking for satanick. or anyone who wants to talk to me really. like or reblog or what have you and ill reach out.

->whoops ivlis anon here forgot to add im over 21 and would only like adults to interact with me

[talos-stims]

my garden will grow so high / that I will be completely hidden...

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[sleep-nurse]

funny how tomorrow i have to do an exposition about respect and my part mostly involves respecting nature. the basil allegations never stop

[welcomingdisaster]

Daily Affirmations

- I am an artist and a craftsman. I paint with watercolors, teal and white, and I bend silver to my hands.

- I am capable. I have an eye for hue, for shape, for purpose.

- My father is proud of me. I bear his name, and his blood is within me, and I shall live up to it.

- The world is full of darkness and smoke, and we make beautiful things.

- Nothing will last. Not the land, not the tower, not the fortress—not the trees which give us light nor my grandfather’s sharp grey eyes. By our art we must be remembered, as he is.

- The stronghold falls. I paint with watercolors, blue and black and grey. It is beautiful.

- I can earn my place in the underground city. My hands will show my worth, though my father laughs and tells me not to bother.

- I can please the king, bask in the sunshine-brightness of his gaze, the crystal beauty of his voice. I can catch in silver the kindness he shows me.

- I need not my father’s love. I need not my father’s love. I need not my father’s love.

- The king is dead. I paint with watercolors, orange and yellow and green. It is beautiful.

- I can leave the city, and the shame which follows me, and the ash and blood on my skin. The fall of the city will not touch me. My father’s death will not touch me. I twist braids of silver and gold. I sketch passageways. I cut crystal. Nothing can touch me, for I am of metal and stone, and I do not feel.

- I can build Nargothrond into Eregion’s gardens, her domed temples, her crystal passageways. I keep the ghost by me, and turn to it to a friend.

- I am not my father. I am not my grandfather. I have the love of my kin and quarrel with none. I paint with water colors, indigo and silver. It is beautiful.

- I will make something of this land, and it will last. I need not my name, and yet I will fill it.

- The Valar have chosen me for a reason.

- This is worth the cost. It must be.

- I need not Galadriel’s love; she is headstrong and takes ambition for folly. I need not Elrond’s love; he is kind, yet young and weak yet of spirit, swayed too easily by the king’s word. I need not Gil-galad’s love; he fears anything he cannot control.

- I am capable. I have an eye for spirit, for power, for purpose.

- I know what I am doing.

- I will make something beautiful, and it will last.

- I am an artist and a craftsman. I bend silver to my hands. I paint with watercolors, crimson, and I wait for

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #22: Kith and Kin

Prompt: rencounter (free write) || Master Post || On AO3 (coming in October)

A/N: Spoilers through Patch 6.5: Growing Light, and very very very minor ones for Dawntrail.

---

Radz-at-Han was a truly beautiful sight from the air. Built atop a large, lonely plateau rising above the Thavnairian jungle, the city covered its entire surface in a myriad of brightly painted buildings, open plazas decorated with mosaics, and lush gardens on multiple rooftops. And even from this distance, there was no mistaking the crowds that bustled throughout the city and crossed the great bridge connecting Radz-at-Han to the rest of Thavnair.

Excitement bubbled up in Ehll Tou’s throat and she trilled an adventuring song as she began to glide downward in a smooth spiral.

The airship landing was easy to spot, a series of long platforms jutting out from the plateau close to the main gate. As she drew closer, Ehll Tou spotted a figure waving from the end of the westernmost dock: large and broadly built, grey skin, large ears, a sinuous trunk, and wearing a beautiful sari of pink and purple. Ah, that must be Nidhana! Ehll Tou obligingly adjusted her course.

The arkasadora took some steps backward as Ehll Tou neared, her ears held up perked and alert. Almost to the edge now, Ehll Tou threw herself into a backwards loop—it had taken quite a bit of practice to relearn how to do that in her adult body—both as display and to slow her momentum. Coming back upright, she flared her wings as a finally braking maneuver, and landed delicately on one foot, and then the other.

[Hello!] she sang happily. [Are you Nidhana?]

“I am indeed!” Nidhana said, striding forward with surprising grace for a being so tall. She held out her hand, and Ehll Tou reached forward to shake eagerly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ehll Tou! Welcome to Radz-at-Han.”

[A pleasure to meet you as well!]Ehll Tou said. [I’ve heard so much about you and your city! Thank you so much for allowing me to attend your introductory alchemy class.]

“Oh, it is a delight to accept a student so diligent and eager to learn,” Nidhana said, beginning to walk down the pier. “I am only sorry I cannot introduce you to Master Vrtra and Mistress Azdaja, but diplomatic business has taken them to Tural and I’m not certain when they will return.”

Ehll Tou kept easy pace beside her and reached into her bag, retrieving her hat and carefully pinning it back to its rightful, jaunty place atop her left horn. [That’s all right,]she said. [There will be plenty of time to properly meet my kin! I am not in any rush.]

“Ah, the benefits of a draconic lifespan,” Nidhana sighed wistfully. “The things I could learn over such time!”

The two chatted happily as they traveled through Radz-at-Han’s streets towards the High Crucible, with Nidhana pointing out many shops and restaurants and landmarks and Ehll Tou dutifully committing them to memory as she built her mental map of the city. She drew curious looks from many Hannish citizens, though dragons had become a somewhat more common sight since Vrtra began openly ruling as satrap. The adventurers were a familiar sight, and some she even knew from Ishgard! With those she exchanged hellos and promises to meet for a snack and cup of tea.

“Such a wonderful world we now live in,” Nidhana said, her trunk curled and ears gently flapping in the manner Ehll Tou was quickly learning meant happiness. “As terrible as the Final Days were, its aftermath has brought new life to the city and Thavnair as a whole. New foods, new ideas, new friends!”

[It is wondrous to see,] Ehll Tou trilled and tapped her claws together with excitement. [I never thought to see the end of the Dragonsong War, but now I may safely travel the lands of man and learn new skills and meet new peoples, and compose songs to share it all with my kin and encourage them to travel and learn, too!]

Nidhana trumpeted a laugh. “Oh, Sisters have mercy on me, I know now why Synnove adores you so much! It is going to be an honor to teach you, truly!”

Ehll Tou chuffed, chest puffing with pride.

--

Five days later, Ehll Tou was browsing one of the markets, humming happily to herself as she examined a stall of clockwork devices. Her first days of classes had gone well and she had settled into the nest that the Alchemists’ College had prepared for her in the student housing close to the High Crucible. She was making new friends, too, and while some of it had no doubt been engendered by the allure of a draconic classmate, once her classmates realized how well-read she was, they had quickly settled into a mix of gossip and idea sharing. Such fun!

She did miss Hautdilong and Arvide, but they had encouraged her to take this opportunity, and she would be back home within the next few moons once the class was concluded. And in the meantime, she would write letters to them, eagerly await their own, and acquire some souvenirs to bring home with her!

Today was a free day and while she would later meet with her classmates to review their notes and prepare for their first laboratory session, this morning was the perfect time to shop.

Ehll Tou had already purchased some silk for a potential sewing project she had in mind, thread for embroidery in colors that made her purr, and a number of interesting snacks she could share at the study session. The clockwork had caught her eye, used as she was to Ul’dahn styles, and her perusal right now was for an item or two she might carefully disassemble to compare its construction to a Goldsmiths’ Guild mammet she was building. A watch was always a good starting point…

A flash of moving scarlet caught her eye, and Ehll Tou raised her head to spot a dragonet further down the boulevard. She blinked curiously; none of her cousins had said they would be visiting Radz-at-Han, but the dragonet didn’t quite look like any of her cousins, either. Perhaps this was a Meracydian dragonet, one that Great Mother Tiamat felt was well enough to travel beyond the safety of her restored brood? Oh, what fun, she hadn’t met any of her Meracydian kin yet!

Ehll Tou made her selections, gently haggling with the shopkeep, and shook hands once they were both content with their deal. She exchanged gil for the watches, placed her purchases within her satchel, and trotted off down the street.

As Ehll Tou drew closer, she noted that the dragonet was certainly no Dravanian but was quite pretty: her wings had feathers, and a fluffy ruff of white feathers crowned her head behind her horns! She whistled a hello, and the dragonet turned—

—this was not a dragonet.

Ehll Tou scrambled to a stop.

{Oh, look at you!} The great wyrm in a dragonet’s body swooped closer. {What a beautiful dragon you have grown into, scion of Ratatoskr!}

Her voice purred and rolled around the careful enunciations of Dragonspeak in both Ehll Tou’s ears and mind. The sound was warm and multi-toned, drums and dulcimers and heavy woodwinds, a deep contralto of age and experience and affection. In it was echoed the symphonic rumble of Kinfather Midgardsormr and the memory of the green skies of the Dragon Star; the hatching songs of new generations and warsongs of wyrms flying to protect their children; the hollow loneliness of a red moon and the dream of home.

Ehll Tou dropped into a bow, neck low and wings spread, and frantically pawed through her mental library of etiquette. Azdaja the Lost had never mothered a brood, so ‘Great Mother’ would not be the proper courtesy title, but perhaps a more mortal term would work, she could contract the layers of generations into one—

[It is my honor, Great Aunt Azdaja,] Ehll Tou trilled in Dragonspeak, though the term for ‘aunt’ translated rather awkwardly.

{Such wonderful manners, I am well met,} Azdaja said, squinting her eyes closed in pleasure. {Further formality is not necessary, little niece.}

Ehll Tou popped up from her bow, fairly vibrating with excitement. [Thank you, Great Aunt! I am Ehll Tou.]

{Yes, yes, Ehll Tou of Dravania! First of a new generation of dragons born to peace.} Azdaja’s voice had warmed even further. {My brother and I just returned to Radz-at-Han last night. How fortuitous that I met you this morning; Vrtra planned to send you an invitation to dinner so that we might properly meet and exchange songs. Would you be able to attend tonight?}

[Oh, yes, I would! Today and tomorrow are my rest days,] Ehll Tou said, fighting the urge to fairly dance in place. Oh goodness, to share family songs with two of the great wyrms! So much to learn! So much to share! She was going to be the utter envy of Zenith and Anyx Trine!

Azdaja’s laugh was a rippling sound of bells and flutes. {Might I accompany you?} she said. {I am still learning much about Radz-at-Han myself, and such excursions are always more joyous with company.}

[It would be my pleasure!] Ehll Tou couldn’t stop her excited hop as Azdaja came to hover next to her, both of their attentions caught by a samosa stall opening as the lunch hour began.

This, Ehll Tou knew, was going to be one of the best days she ever had.

[echthr0s]

#VEILGUARD30 | vhenadahl

"So… Anansi… you ready? To… you know. See the Alienage?" Alistair's voice is tentative, shy about the sensitivity of the subject, but earnest. Always earnest, Alistair, even in his jesting. Anansi suppresses a chuckle, but before he can clarify what amused him -- before Alistair is wounded -- Morrigan is ready with a comeback.

"Yes, Anansi, are you ready? Being, you know…" She drops her voice to a quavering whisper. "One of those… surely you must--"

"Maker's sack, Morrigan, do you ever--" Alistair bites off the rest of his sentence, squeezing his eyes shut and appearing to struggle for composure. Morrigan smirks and settles back in her seat, having done her wicked deed for the hour.

"I will say, 'Maker's sack' is a good one. You've spent all the standard oaths on me many times over, I'm happy to see you getting creative."

Anansi has long since stopped trying to intercede between them. It is like ritual, now -- Alistair is clumsy but kind, Morrigan teases him for it, Alistair clearly wants to strangle her with her own scarf. Neither of them has ever cornered Anansi and begged to be kept away from the other. It is a dance -- not one Anansi would ever be able to follow the steps of with any grace, but both of them seemed to be doing just fine.

"Thank you for asking after my comfort, Alistair." Anansi tucks an errant strand of straw-blond hair behind Alistair's ear, tracing his stubbled jawline with gentle fingers as he brings his hand back down. Alistair's shoulders unbunch and he blushes. Anansi doesn't have to be facing Morrigan to know she's rolled her eyes, nor does he have to be clairvoyant to know she would later pointedly perform the same gesture on Anansi before grasping his chin and kissing him hard enough to bruise. Mockery is Morrigan's way, but there is flattery in it for the chosen few, if one has eyes to see. "I am anxious, to be sure. Anora has painted a grim picture. But I am well-accustomed to horror."

"Well, sure, but…"

"You think it is worse, that it happens to… 'my kin'?" Anansi tosses back his thick raven hair, revealing pointed ears, but these ears are adorned with bone charms, much like his neck and his wrists: a witch's fetishes. A Chasind witch's fetishes. "I am not elven, Ali, my love. I am of the Wilds."

"Barely," mutters Morrigan, who has never forgiven Anansi for being dragged off to the Circle.

"I know little of elven culture, city or Dalish. When I walk into that place, they will see pointed ears, yes. But they will not see kin."

Alistair nods, teeth worrying at the inside of his lip as he considers. "I am Fereldan, but… not. To me, I am Avvar. But people insist on seeing a Fereldan, when they look at me." He blinks, refocusing on Anansi. "But that's the opposite of what you're saying, isn't it. Sorry. May have misunderstood."

Anansi's smile is soft, appreciative. "I think you understand just fine."

--

When Anansi walks into that place, that place with its structures sagging with disrepair and its peoples sagging with despair, that place with its defiant garlands and tapestries made with hands desperately trying to recall arts lost, that place lousy with plague -- not just sickness, but the crawling presence of the Tevinter Imperium -- he feels a queer sickness descend upon him like a smothering shroud. His vision doubles, trebles, then snaps back. He sways on his feet, and Alistair, used to this, steadies him with a hand.

"All right?" the other Warden asks, quietly.

"No," Anansi sighs, "but it matters not." He scans the landscape, his eyes continually catching on coughing beggars and wilting gardens and wailing children. "There must be a... a leader of sorts around. Let's--"

He'd stepped forward, intent on finding someone to question, but in an instant the alienage goes grey in his vision, and he knows he is gone. He rides the wave of vertigo, swallowing the rolling nausea, softening his eyes as colours and shapes shift and recede and expand. Acute and aching sensation of being stretched like soft candy as he is pulled up and out and sideways, away from his body, into the Archdemon's dream. Were the darkspawn here, too? Was this their plague? No… he senses Urthemiel's psychic intercedence has another cause.

Steadied in the Fade-shift, he looks up. The thick, gnarled tree at the center of the Alienage stands stark against the blackened sky, thrumming with energy, electric with it. < Burn. Burn. Burn! >

Urthemiel's capacity for eloquence is variable, and it seems today he is too riled to bother with clarity.

< Took our ichor. Grew tree from it. Grew in power. Hungry hearts, hungry elvhen hearts. >

Anansi looks upon the alienage's tree with new eyes. Yes. The power, though greatly dimmed with the passage of time and the ravages of neglect, is still there. Stolen, warped, reforged. He can feel the Archdemon's psyche surging, as if it is standing up, preparing to fly. A blast of heat at Anansi's back, dragon breath, dragon rancor. The tree is engulfed in flames, and Urthemiel sinks its great teeth into it, ripping, ripping. Nothing will ever quell Urthemiel's rage, nurtured over ages, but this… this would at least bring a savage pleasure.

"-- wouldn't smell all that great, either!" Anansi swallows against another heave of his stomach as he is wrenched back into his body, the tail end of whatever retort Alistair was delivering to Morrigan clanging like dented bells in his ears. Alistair, sensing Anansi's return, flinches guiltily and looks down at the head he is cradling in his lap. "Ah, love, you're back."

Anansi's gut aches, and he misses Sten and their delicately brewed root tea terribly. Maybe he would leave all this to the senior Warden and run off to the forest where the Qunari, misliking human cities, had gone on a personal investigation. Maybe he would leave it all. Take Sten and head south, to… the Wilds, the Wilds that were now overrun with darkspawn, the fens and marshes and swamps festering with Blight, and his people…

"Anansi?" Morrigan queries from behind her scarf, wrapped around her face against the sour smells of the alienage. "What ails you?"

He then feels the tears trickling unheeded from his eyes, and the weariness that weighs him down as he struggles to sit up. Some elves had crept close to them, wary but curious. He shakes off the malaise. "I'm just tired. Unfathomably. It matters not. We have a job to do."

Later, Morrigan would wreathe him in silk-soft magics and let him weep, let his exhaustion and his grief flow out of him like the Blight that would soon flow out of Urthemiel's ravaged body at his command. Later, Alistair would bring him sweets and some up-charged but admittedly amusing trinket from Wonders of Thedas and squeeze him tight against his big, warm body until the tension shudders out of him and is replaced with desire's sweet ache. Later still, Tevinter would be purged from Denerim's alienage and a tired but hardy Hahren Valendrian would offer Anansi a boon, and Anansi will ask only to visit with the tree -- the vhenadahl -- awhile. He is not elf. He is not dragon. And yet, he is. It is being elf and being dragon that have brought him here, to this place: core threads of the multiplicitous fabric of his existence. When he approaches the vhenadahl, he knows it to be kin.

[virgo-mess]

Silver Bells

Here we are guys finally made it to the sequel for Silver Thread. It is a Christmas fic. I had intended to write during Christmas, but Silver Thread took me longer to put together than expected, so I hope you don't mind reading a Christmas romance in spring. Hopefully, the Birds and the Bees will even it out as it's very much a summer romance! This post is going to be the master post so all the links for the chapters will be added in order here, but I think I'll still put the next parts at the bottoms of the chapters when they're available. Without further ado, here is the first official part of Silver Bells. Enjoy!

🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️❄️❄️🎄🎄🎄❄️❄️❄️🎄❄️🎄

Chapter List

Prologue

Chapter 1: Hot Chocolate for Two

Chapter 2: BUT HE ALREADY KNOWS HOW TO SKATE!

Chapter 3: Hugo’s Plan/ NO, Get Out of the Hot TUB!

Chapter 4: Orange is Not Her Favorite Color….

Chapter 5: Christmas Strife

Chapter 6: Silver Bells pt 1

Chapter 6: Silver Bells pt 2

Chapter 7: Constellation

Epilogue

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Prologue:

December 14th, 1985

Two pairs of eyes stared back at each other from across the still room, one pair was a deeply melancholy shade blue, and the other was a painfully somber shade of brown, but both were teary. The Los Angeles skies mirrored them through the obnoxious stain glass windows, thick, weighted grey clouds loomed across the dreary winter skies and smothered the sun. Looking like they might finally give away and weep over the city marking the end of the warm golden days of LA summer and the arrival of the cool rainy days of LA winter. Usually, the brown pair of eyes wouldn’t mind such a thing with the joys of Christmas, their favorite holiday, just around the corner. The brown eyes had thought this Christmas was going to outshine all their previous Christmases because this time the blue pair of eyes would be right by their side. But that was when the brown eyes couldn’t tell where they ended and where the blue ones began, back when their eyes were blended together to make a dusty brown-grey shade of purple. Soft and pretty, perfectly intertwined in a harmonious dance neither of the eyes wanted or ever thought would end but now the brown eyes were facing the reality that the dance was in fact ending. That the music was fading, and the warm, golden sun was setting on what they had declared their own little personal Eden. Damning their once flourishing garden, into a hellish, lonely eternal winter.

The blue eyes were denying this reality, they pleaded to the brown ones from across the room insisting that the music was still playing, the sun wasn’t setting, and the dance wasn’t coming to an end. The brown eyes believed the blue eyes when they said it last time, the night they swirled with sincerity and the deepest form of love the brown eyes had ever seen or felt. That night the blue eyes gazed up at them from where they knelt upon abodes of red rose petals that blanketed the floors of the Alhambra Suite at the Mission Inn with a black velvet box sitting in their trembling hands. Asking a question the brown eyes hadn’t really wanted to hear yet but gladly accepted because it was easier than accepting that their once loving relationship was now clouded in secrecy. White lies that grew in both number and size until the brown eyes found themselves questioning if anything the blue eyes had ever told them was true. If their love for each other was real, or if it was just a means to an end in the grand scheme of the vengeful plan the blue eyes had crafted and executed against the brown eye’s own kin.

“Veda baby, listen to me please I need you with me today…” Terry said, his blue eyes vulnerable and pleading as he knelt down in front of Veda’s slightly trembling form and let out a long-saddened sigh as they registered the tears welling in her brown orbs. It seemed all she did these last few weeks was cry, at least when she wasn’t holed up in one of the guest rooms. A shaky breath escaped her lip, her brown eyes were trained on her feet because she knew that if she met Terry’s gaze, she’d throw her escape plan out the window. She kept reminding herself it was too late to get the deposit back on the U-Haul she had Larry Park a few streets over just like it was too late to cancel her last-minute vacation rental. Though she wasn’t sure how running away to spend Christmas and her winter break in solitude up in the mountains of Big Sur could be considered much of a vacation. Veda already knew anywhere Terry Silver wasn’t, was absolute torture for her and part of her felt like she deserved to have a miserable existence for betraying him this way… leaving him this way when she was still completely in love with him was the hardest decision she’d make in her entire life. She tried to keep reminding herself that Terry had betrayed her first, that he lied to her directly and indirectly for months, that he had chosen to prioritize his relationship with John Kreese over theirs and that he had single handedly orchestrated a plan to make her little brother suffer behind her back. Some of those thing Veda might be able to look past if Terry didn’t seem to wholeheartedly believe he had done nothing wrong that everything he did was to benefit both her and John.

“I can’t Terry…you lied to me… you keep lying to me” Veda’s voice came out surprisingly firm even though she was physically shaking like a leaf and her stomach felt like it might empty itself all over the bedroom floor. A bedroom she once considered theirs though it looked like neither of them had slept in it for weeks. Truthfully that was because they hadn’t, while Veda was off sleeping at Zoe’s or in one of the bare guest rooms Terry wasn’t sleeping at all. Terry took a sharp inhale as he stared up at Veda with dilated pupils and slightly bloodshot eyes, he found himself wishing he could pour his heart out to her the way used to but that would mean admitting he had a problem and that was something he couldn’t face right now. His heart was heavy with more shame, guilt, and pain than he had felt even in those dark days he spent locked in a cage in the jungle.

“I know I lied and I’m so sorry baby girl but after the tournament today everything’s going to go back to normal, it’ll just be you and me again you won’t even see John. We can go to dinner at the roof top place, we can go to the pier, we can go to the museums, the Ranch whatever you want, sweetheart I promise. Just come with me, please” Terry’s tone is urgent and desperate as he tilted her head up so he could stare deeply into her eyes. They’re swirling with sincerity and desperation and Veda thinks for a second, he’s on to her and her growing need to get away from everything. Even if her need to run away and leave her life with Terry behind her wasn’t this strong she still couldn’t handle going to the tournament today she couldn’t watch Daniel go through the pain of being in Cobra Kai’s bad graces all over again.

“I don’t want to watch Daniel hurt, Terry and I can’t watch you do this…please don’t make me go.” Veda said just above a whisper as the tears in her eyes finally start to spill over. She sat unmoving as she felt Terry begin to wipe and kiss away the stream of tears from her cheeks, his kisses are tender, but his thumb is frantic as it brushes against her flushed skin. Terry breaths are coming out in nervous bursts of air as he tries to soothe Veda in the only way he’s ever known how. The fact that it doesn’t seem to be working scares him enough to finally consider the fact that he may be losing the love of his life this time and a last-minute spur of the moment proposal wasn’t going to fix it this time.

“Okay… you don’t have to go” Terry whispered, cradling Veda’s face in his hands he swore he felt his heart shatter as her brown eyes stared back at him looking lifeless and defeated for the time ever. Terry let out a shaky breath before leaning forward to place his lips on her forehead in the form of a long tender kiss as he contemplated just where to go from here. Losing Veda was never something he considered a likely possibility, he always swore he’d never let it happen, that he’d never let her go, that he’d make it next to impossible for her to move on or to ever be free of him. Yet now that the gravity and consequences of his action the last few months were finally catching up with him and the reality of losing her was more tangible Terry couldn’t bring himself to force her to stay. He knew the right thing to do today would be to skip the tournament, to forget John and his quest for revenge and just stay here and hold her until the look swirling in her brown eyes faded. Terry wished more than anything that he could, that he could forsake John and forget about Cobra Kai and get back to the blissful existence he had with his sweet girl before his old friend turned up asking him for a favor. Terry wished he had ignored John’s adamant advice about keeping Veda in the dark because it was clear from the get-go John Kreese was less than satisfied with Terry’s chosen beloved. The why of which Terry had yet to figure out but John sure looked happy when Veda showed up at the dojo in tears looking equal amounts hurt and betrayed.

“You don’t have to go just, please go to dinner with me tonight so we can talk about all of this okay, my sweet girl?” Terry pleaded; Veda let out a long sigh as she now felt her own heart shatter this time because it was clear to her Terry knew she was planning to leave.

“Okay, we’ll talk over dinner” she forced the words out like they were poison and refused to let herself acknowledge the way her heart fluttered when his blue eyes lit up and he peppered her cheek with adoring kisses. They both knew she way lying but neither of them felt equipped to talk about it as they danced on thin heart-breaking line of Terry showering her with affection and Veda sitting in his arms unmoving.

“Everything will be okay, baby girl I promise, you’ll see. I love you…” All Veda could do was nod as she thought of her response to his declaration but didn’t allow herself to utter the three words back to him. Even when his lips brushed against hers passionately, she waited until she heard his footsteps retreating down the loggia before she broke down into a fit of agonizing sobs. The sobs didn’t stop even when Margaret, Larry, and Milos came in the room to help her gather her things cooing reassuring words to her. They tried to assure her Terry would come to understand, that he could never hate her, that she wasn’t a bad person, but Veda couldn’t bring herself to believe a single word. Her sobs only intensified as she was failing to remember what things belonged to her before Terry was in her life and what things were only hers because of him. Margaret insisted she take them all, but Veda knew she wouldn’t be able to fit everything in her small student dorm at CalTech or the one she was supposed to occupy next fall at USC. The only thing she didn't keep was the ring he proposed with, the solitaire diamond didn't seem to shine the way it did that night as Veda sat it on the nightstand with a shaky hand. She let her eyes sweep across the room that she once called their before they settled on the promise ring she was still wearing on her right finger. Veda couldn't bring herself to take it off even after Terry gave her the engagement ring because she liked it a lot more and because it reminded her of a happier time in their relationship. Even now, even after everything that happened, she couldn't bring herself to it. So, she took one last shaky breath as she scooped the last of her belongings into her arms and walked out of the Ennis house for the last time.

The hours up until then seemed to pass by in slow motion and when the time finally came for Veda to hop into the truck and drive away, she felt numb. Utterly and completely detached as the three adults she had come to know and call friends pulled her trembling form into their arms. Silent tears were still rolling down her flushed cheeks as she hopped into the truck and turned the key in the ignition. Igniting a melancholy sounding engine just as the clouds finally gave away and wept, the first sign of an unusually cold winter swept through the treetops as Veda pulled the truck out of the long drive and on to the road. The soft patter of rain hitting the windshield and wet truck tires rolling on the pavement fill the silence of the car and Veda finds herself wanting to turn around but knows she can’t for reasons she doesn’t even fully understand yet. She reaches over to turn on the radio with a shaky hand and Joni Mitchell’s River lulls through the stereo in all its blue melancholy.

“…It’s coming on Christmas

 They’re cutting down trees

They’re putting up reindeer

And singing songs of joy and peace

Oh, I wish I had a river

I could skate away on

But it don’t snow here

It stays pretty green

I’m going to make a lot of money

Then I’m going to quit this crazy scene

I wish I had a river

I could skate away on

I wish I had a river so long

I would teach my feet to fly

Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on

I made my baby cry

He tried hard to help me

You know, he put me at ease

And loved me so naughty made me weak in the knees

Oh, I wish I had a river

I could skate away on…”

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Veda dry heaves, feeling her stomach lurch and twist uncomfortably as she nears the expressway and Terry’s Rolls Royce Corniche comes into view across the street. She can make out his dark hair through the raindrops on his window and the distressed look on his face. She wishes she could run to him more than anything right now, to have him wrap his arms around her and listen to his heartbeat one last time....but she doesn't. She turns the truck onto the expressway as a fresh wave of tears and sobs overtake her.

Terry glances down at his watch before training his blue eyes on the traffic light, becoming increasingly agitated as its cycle seems to purposely want to halt his trek home. Though part of him knows his urgency to get there might all be for naught, he heard it in the way Veda spoke to him this morning and he felt it in the way she couldn’t bring herself to kiss him back. He saw it in her sad brown eyes and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do the only thing he ever wanted to do since she came into his life. He listened to John, a man he once considered his best friend and now he was trying to drive home to the only other person in the world that brought him an ounce of comfort even though he knew he lost her. Terry groaned, glaring at the traffic light as he aggressively turned the volume up on the radio to drown out his thoughts and sorrow as his foot finally hits the gas.

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“…I’m so hard to handle

I’m selfish and I’m sad

Now I’ve gone and lost the best baby

That I’ve ever had

Oh, I had a river

I could skate away on

I wish had a river so long

I would teach my feet to fly

Oh, I wish I had a river

I could skate away on

I made my baby say goodbye

It’s coming on Christmas

 They’re cutting down trees

They’re putting up reindeer

And singing songs of joy and peace

Oh, I wish I had a river

I could skate away on…”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

June 14th, 1987

Terry sighed, leaning back on a patio chair with a book in his hands listening to the faint sound of the waves crashing on the beach below. He was surprised his father moved him to such a luxurious rehab center, to be completely honest Terry was surprised he cared enough to come visit him without giving him a lecture. In fact, he was rather nice to him during his last visit, Terry suspected Margaret probably knocked some sense into him the same way she’d done to him a month ago. Terry for once accepted her verbal lashing though he wished she had done it before Veda left. Though he’s not sure the coke would’ve allowed him to hear it.

Terry was pulled out of his thoughts by one of the counselors walking out of the house with someone lingering in the doorway behind them.

“Mr. Silver you have a visitor, a Lucille LaRusso” he said, Terry flew to his feet with a rush of emotions overtaking him as he looked to the doorway surprised. It was in fact Lucille LaRusso, the mother of his ex-fiancé and Daniel LaRusso, the boy he tormented for a few months on his war buddies command and on Veda’s behalf.

“Mrs. LaRusso, hello” Terry said awkwardly, his cheeks flushing in shame and embarrassment as he looked at her. He was fully expecting to get another verbal lashing or a slap to the face as she walked up to the patio table he’d been sitting at. He wouldn’t blame her if she did, he hurt both of her children, intentionally and unintentionally. Terry would be lying if he said Daniel basically handing his college fund over to Mr. Miyagi without caring about the affect it had Veda didn’t fuel him into accepting John’s request. Because it did, he’d already been planning on teaching Daniel some semblance of a lesson before John showed up but finding out that he was the essentially the catalyst behind a lot of the horrible things Dutch did to Veda had him seeking out a punishment he thought fit the crime. If Daniel hadn’t ended up in Cobra Kai’s bad graces Dutch and Johnny never would’ve sought Veda out, using an innocent girl as a means to get back at Daniel. To make it all worse Dutch took things a step further, beating her half to death on two separate occasions for daring to call him out for being the trash he is and was. Veda was unwittingly collateral damage in a month’s long feud, one she had no responsibility in creating yet she suffered the most in the grand scheme of things. Terry dealt with Dutch accordingly, but he still had nightmares of the state he found Veda in, curled up under his office desk on the verge of a GHB overdose. And it all started because of some feud her bratty little brother took part in, truthfully, Daniel got off easy in comparison. Dutch Howard was still sitting in a cell waiting for his case to go to trial in a few months, Terry had already exhausted every avenue he could to make sure Veda would never have to take the stand…

“Hi, Terry. You can still call me Lucille” she said reassuringly, taking him by surprise as she pulled him into a brief motherly embrace. Terry furrowed his eyebrows but gladly returned the hug because he can’t remember the last time, he’d gotten one, he wished Veda was the one giving it to him, but Lucille was the next best thing. Lucille pulled away giving him a soft smile before taking a seat at the table Terry sat down still feeling a bit awkward despite how happy he was to see her.

“Uh, what brings you here, did Maragret call you?” he asked curiously, Lucille shook her head pulling out the letter he sent to Veda a few weeks prior. Terry shifted uncomfortably when he realized it was open. “Oh, that, I um…” he trailed not sure what to say, since it was a thinly veiled attempt to win her back so to speak even though he knew he shouldn’t be dating anyone for at least a year after treatment was over. There was still only a select set of people he let influence his decisions and one of them was sitting next to him right now. Lucille gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“She didn’t read it, I did, and I thought it was important that someone came to see you while you’re healing. So, you better get used to seeing me Terry, next time I come I’m expecting a warmer greeting, young man. I’m also here because I thought that it was important for you to know what’s going on with Veda, I need you to understand why I’m not giving her this letter right now and why I need you to be patient with her. I also know you were the one that funded that program for Veda to go to USC, it’s a good thing you submitted it anonymously. I don’t think she would’ve accepted it otherwise; I know I don’t have to tell you how stubborn she is. Once she sets her mind on something you’ll very rarely talk her out of it” Lucille chuckled very obviously trying to lighten the mood after such a heavy statement, Terry appreciated her effort nonetheless, but his mind was reeling with all the things that could be wrong with Veda.

“Yeah, she is a true Taraus that’s for sure. How’d you know it was me?” Terry asked, trying not to seem as nervous as he felt, and let a slight smile grace his lips as he looked back at her. Thinking and talking about Veda still hurt him so much right now.

“You aren’t the only one with connections, Terry Silver. I may have agreed to go on a date with the Dean if he let me see the paperwork” she said proudly, Terry let out a genuine laugh for the first time in months, forgetting about his dread over the current state of his relationship with Veda for a moment.

“And that’s why Veda is so good at sweet talking people, huh, Lucille. How is USC going for her so far, she’s been there like a year now, right” Terry asked nonchalantly even though he very much wanted to know anything he could, though he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stand hearing, Veda was dating other guys yet. He always said she’d never find anyone to take his place, but he also said he’d never let her leave and in the end he did. She could do much better than him right now, that’s why he needed to do everything he possibly could to be better for himself and for her.

  “School wise she’s doing great; she’s majoring in Business Administration with a focus on Entrepreneurship and Innovation and English Literature. Then she’s also minoring in art, art history, marketing, and surprisingly musical theater. I think she might be having an early midlife crisis right now, but she can actually really sing very well. I had no idea she could, she’s learning guitar and piano right now” Lucille said, Terry felt a slight twinge in his chest as he remembered the first time, he ever heard her sing. He still couldn’t listen to Fleetwood Mac without crying because he still pictured her head on his thigh looking up at him like he was the best thing ever created. He remembered the way her voice pulled him out of the jungles of Vietnam on the 4th of July like it was yesterday, it was hard for him to believe that would be two summers ago next month. Terry chuckled bittersweetly under his breath because it would seem they both developed a passion for music in their time apart.

    “That’s funny, I’m learning piano too” he said, even in their time apart they were still doing things together it would seem; Lucille smiled but it faltered after a moment and Terry knew she was gearing up to tell him bad news. “Oh, you said she’d doing great school wise, but how is she doing otherwise…” Terry trailed, feeling a rush of concern overtaking him despite how much he didn’t want to hear if he had caused her more pain. Lucille let out a deep sigh, toying with the letter in her small hands.

      “I mean she says she’s fine, but she isn’t, you know, as her mother I can tell she’s not and I don’t know how to help her. She won’t talk about it, Terry, she barely sleeps, and she eats like a bird. She’s lost so much weight, she’s so frail looking all she does is go to work or to school, she hasn’t seen Zoe and Rob in months, and they’re worried about her too. Then last week her doctor called me and asked if I was willing to check her into rehab because her lab results were a life-threatening kind of bad, he can’t give her a full diagnosis unless she has a psychological exam and Veda refused treatment. Obviously in this case I’m legally allowed to force her into treatment, I could but I just don’t think that’ll do much for her in the long run. I think she needs to hear it from you, Terry, hearing that you’re also struggling and getting help might give her more incentive to get better. I’ve read some of her journal entries and she feels really guilty for leaving you Terry, she thinks that you hate her for breaking her promise to you and she still loves you. I know you wrote this letter because you want to win her back Terry, but I think the best thing for both of you is time apart, to grow and heal. You both need to learn how to cope with things in a healthy way before you can be together otherwise something like what happened will just happen again and before you know it the love that brought you together is gone. I think what you guys need right now is to just be friends, you guys' kind of skipped that part. But the strongest relationships have to be built on something, you both got caught up in fixing each other and your problems instead of just helping the other through the problems. You can still love and support each other without coddling and trying fix the other person. Veda needs to just be a normal college kid right now and you just need to focus on getting sober. When the time is right and you’re both healed, you’ll know. So, I was wondering if you’d be willing to write her a different letter…” Lucille trailed, Terry wasn’t sure when he started crying, but he was, he felt the drops hit the back of his hand. Flooding from his eyes much like they had on her 19th birthday. Terry wordlessly nodded his head as he rushed into the house to grab a pen and paper.

            The words, like his tears, flooded out of him, almost like some outside force was pushing him along. Terry knew what it was though, it was love, unconditional love. The kind of love he promised her would always be there for her when she needed it, and he intended to keep to that until the day died. He’d never stop carrying that torch for her, but he wanted her to be happy even if that meant it wasn’t with him. He scribbled across the paper passionately, toying with his promise ring, he could never bring himself to take it off.

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            Dear Veda,  

           Hi sweet girl, I heard from a little birdy whose name rhymes with surreal, that you’re learning to play piano. You’re not going to believe this but so am I, it’s funny how even after our time apart we still seem to be so close together, we even picked up the same hobbies. I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on the way our relationship ended, and I can’t go into detail in this letter, but I need you to know that the things that happened, the choices I made, were not your fault. They were my mistakes, Veda, I made them, if anyone should feel guilty and responsible it’s me, not you. You didn’t break your promises, I did. The first life lesson I ever taught you was that actions have consequences, losing you and Dynatox were the consequences of my actions. I understand that now, that’s why I’m trying to get better, for myself. I’m in a rehabilitation facility now and it’s really helping me understand who I am and why I’ve done some of the things I’ve done, some of those war and childhood wounds don’t hurt so bad now. What does hurt me though, is knowing how much I hurt you, Veda and to hear that you’re still hurting because of me kills me.

 I once told you we were meant to happen regardless of time or circumstance, perhaps Romeo and Juliet weren’t the best couple to compare us to. Fate brought them together, but their lovesickness was ultimately what did them in because they thought they couldn’t live without the other and we thought that too. We stayed in our little bubble, and it prevented us from seeing that what we really needed was to just be there for each other, to help each other without coddling each other. Neither of us knew how to do that for whatever reason and that’s why us being apart right now is a good thing. We both needed time to grow, we must be better for ourselves before we can be good for each other. As much as I love you Veda, you were too young to be helping me get rid of my demons and I was wrong for trying to keep you in a relationship you were too young to be in, it took me a while to understand that while our love was real, our relationship was unhealthy because we both had unhealthy tendencies and coping mechanisms. I thought I was taking care of you, that I was protecting you, but what I was really doing was preventing you from growing up and living a life without me because of my own unresolved issues. I wasn’t just holding you; I was holding you back, you should’ve been enjoying your youth and finding your own place in the real world. I thought I was doing it because I loved you, but I was really doing it because I was afraid of being alone again. Now I understand that loving you means letting you live out your dreams even if they don’t involve me. I’m happy that you’ve found a place at USC, Veda, I’m happy you’re chasing your dream but I’m not happy that you aren’t living your life, that you’re not spending time with Rob and Zoe, and that you’re hurting yourself this way over me.

 I recently read about The Red String of Fate, how God placed an invisible red string around the pinkies of two people that were destined to meet. It says the string may tangle, stretch, and twist in different directions but it doesn’t break regardless of time, place, or circumstance. That’s us, when I told you that my love for you was unconditional Veda, I meant it. You can live your life, see the world, be a reckless kid, break the rules, or find someone else to love if that’s what you need to do because it won’t change the way I feel about you,  it won’t change the fact that the place next to me belongs to you, and it won’t change the fact that I don’t mind waiting for you. I’m sorry for putting you through all of this, I never wanted to hurt you, and I’m not expecting you to forgive me anytime soon, but I hope someday you might and that we can at least be friends. That ball is still always in your court though, Veda and I just needed you to know that I’m here for you whenever you need me. I’m not mad at you for leaving and I could never, ever, hate you. You did the right thing, I never would’ve been able to accept the fact I made a lot of bad decisions if you had stayed because, like I said, just being with you was a reward for me. I never would have gotten help if you hadn’t Veda and now, I hope this letter will encourage you to get some help of your own. You deserve to heal, and you deserve to be happy, Veda, all I ever really wanted was for you to be happy. Even if you can’t forgive me, could you at least do that and not just for me Veda, do it for you.

              Love you always,

 regardless of time or circumstance,

              Terry

[potatothatcanwrite]

~Arrows and Dragon Hide~

Kili Durin x [Dragonshifter}FemOC Part 1/?

A/N-this whole fic idea came to me in a chaotic ass dream, so, uh, ya. oh and the oc's name is pronounced (Eye-Jah)

Word Count- 1.3k

Summary- At the request of Gandalf, a dragon shifter joins the company of Thorin Oakenshield on the quest to reclaim Erebor.

Warnings- Canon typical violence, talk of death and torture

Next Part

The night hung quiet and peaceful over the small town of hobbits, many of the locals already tucked cozily away into bed. But at the top of the hill, with an emerald green door, lay a hobbit hole with a winding trail of smoke rising from the chimney. Warm light spills from the windows as a limber, cloaked figure makes their way silently to the door with the small glowing mark. The well kept garden path was encircled by a small wooden fence, the wood remained unpainted but smooth. The gate slowly creaks closed, and the small path crunches beneath the boots of the mysterious figure. Raising a hand to the door the figure delivers a sharp knock, and the sounds of conversation and movement behind the firm wooden door quiets before a solitary set of footfalls approach the door. As the knob turns and the door swings open, a gust of warm air ruffles the cloak of the newcomer. A small hobbit stands in the open space, blonde curly hair ruffled. the figure bows, and with a slight lilt to her voice says, "Eyja, at your service, you're Mister Baggins I presume?"

Rising to meet the smalls mans gaze, the hobbit gives a small nod and shuffles back a step, leaving room for woman to enter the small entry room. Removing her cloak allowing her waved brown hair to fall free and the light from inside to catch on the rings of metal in her lip and ears, she hangs the dark fabric on the wall and lays down her long slender blade on a small chest.

The sound of voices comes from down the hall and as Bilbo moves towards the sounds of ruckus, Eyja follows on nearly silent feet. Rounding the corner, her gaze is met with 13 dwarves all laughing and shouting, and one taller man in grey robes.

"Ah there we are, Thorin, this is the shifter I was telling you about," Gandalf's calm voice drifts across the room and Eyja turns to see the wizard and the raven haired dwarf watching her, "Eyja, this is Thorin Oakenshield the King Under the Mountain." The dwarf nods briefly, as she bows.

"Your majesty." Thorin stands, and the rest of the group quickly falls quiet. Bilbo moves to stand beside the grey wizard as Thorin begins to detail the quest they will be going on, and how the dwarfs will receive no assistance from the dwarven kingdoms of their kin.

"We are here to collect a burglar, and a shifter to assist us in our adventure." Thorin's cool gaze drifts from Bilbo to Eyja, drawing the rest of the companies eyes to the two aforementioned people.

Gandalf clears his throat, and places a map upon the table, "The journey to Erebor will be long and treacherous, but with this map we will find a way into the mountain, where our burglar will be able to find the Arkenstone, and in the worst case scenario where the dragon awakens Eyja will be there to handle it quickly." Gazes travel to the woman in the corner, wondering how she would be able to best Smaug the Terrible.

A dwarf with a dark mustache, pipe and large hat raises his hand and interrupts the wizard, "Now, no offence lass, but how is that wee girl meant to kill the infamous Smaug the terrible, the greatest calamity of the age?" Eyja raises her head watching as Gandalf brings up his own pipe, taking a large puff before sighing, leaning back in his chair he begins to explain.

"Master Bofur, Eyja is a skin changer, one of the very few that still roam Middle-Earth, now shifters often turn into great beasts, but she can shift into a dragon large enough to rival the size of the one currently residing in your mountain." At those words all heads turn swiftly to the woman who stands in the corner, picking at her nails. The dwarf, that she now knows is named Bofur, nods and brings his pipe to his mouth.

The other dwarfs murmur to themselves about the newest information about the only female member of the company. Bilbo however speaks up from behind the monarch, "What were you saying about a dragon?" The fear in his voice is evident in the way it warbles a bit at the end. Bofur speaks once more, going into detail about Smaug took over the mountain years ago, leaving Thorin's people to wander in search of a new home, and how those who tried to fight against the beast were scorched beyond recognition, which all lead to the small hobbit fainting.

"Eyja if you would be so kind to carry Master Baggins to his bed, so he may recover." Gandalf's soft voice breaks the silence that followed the hollow thud of Bilbo's body hitting the floor. Moving forward the shifter swiftly scoops up the burglar and begins to wander the halls attempting to find the bedroom of the company's host.

The pitter patter of feet follow her down the hall and a tall dwarf with dark hair and a shadow of stubble begins to walk beside her before bounding ahead to look into rooms. Once the two successfully find the room, Eyja gently places Mister Baggins upon the bed and both the dwarf and the shifter exit the room. "I'm Kili," the dwarrow breaks the silence while they walk slowly back to the rest of the company, "are there many other shifters like you in Middle-Earth?"

Eyja smiles at the young dwarfs curiosity, turning her head to meet Kili's dark gaze she slows her pace even more, "There were once many shifters roaming the world, for we were here before all else, we lived as one with the land and we a happy people. We protected those who could not protect themselves. But now," She brings in a ragged breath, "there are merely two left." Her walk ceases and she turns to face the warrior fully, "When the orcs first came they killed many of the shifters, capturing the rest, as it brought them amusement to torture us in cages and chains." There is a sullen pause where Eyja's hand drift to the sleeves that cover her wrists, old pain swimming in her yellowish gaze. "As far as I am aware, only two of us were able to escape the painful death we would have received, me, and Beorn; a mighty man who shifted into a great bear. Once free of the orcs grip we separated to find hidden corners of the world where we could remain safe."

Kili stands across from the woman mouth open, eyes wide, he had never meant to bring up painful memories and now the shifters eyes darken with the memories of her past. "Forgive me, I never meant to-"

She silences him quickly with a wave of her hand and a dry chuckle, "It is no worries master dwarf, you had no knowledge of it, those are old memories that I must learn to deal with eventually." Her lips close, and her golden eyes soften, "Besides, it is aways nice to talk of the times before the orcs came." The two grow silent, a contented peace settling as they continue back to the company. Returning to the table, Eyja finds the dwarfs dispersed amongst the residence setting up bedrolls and beginning to relax in preparation for the long journey ahead of them. Though Thorin stands by the door speaking with an older dwarf with a long silver beard. Kili turns to the woman again face turned up towards her with a gentle smile playing on his lips,

"I am going to go find my brother, so until tomorrow madam shifter." he bows his head a little and his grins widens at Eyja's quiet laugh.

"Just Eyja is fine, goodnight to you as well Kili." Turning away from the dwarrow the woman wanders away in search of the meddlesome grey wizard who had summoned her to Hobbiton.

[marietheran]

LotR reread - book 1, chapter 2 - The Shadow of the Past

This is where things start to get darker, and Tolkien was very vocal in reminding that it got written well before September 1939

"Merry and Pippin suspected [Frodo] visited Elves at times, as Bilbo had done"

"There were rumours of strange things happening in the world outside... Elves, who seldom walked in the shire could now be seen passing westward through the woods in the evening, passing and not returning; but they were leaving Middle-Earth and were no longer concerned with its troubles. There were, however, dwarves on the road in unusual numbers. The ancient East-West Road ran through the Shire to its end at the Grey Havens, and dwarves had always used it on their way to their mines intbhe Blue mountains... But now Frodo often net strange dwarves of far countries, seeking refuge in the West. They were troubled, and some spoke in whispers of the Enemy and of the land of Mordor... That name the hobbits only knew in legends of the dark past, like a shadow in the background of their memories; but it was ominous and disquieting." - Oh, this passage used to move me so, for some reason, though I'm afraid it's grown stale!

"But it was an old tradition that away over there stood the Gray Havens from which at times elven-ships set sail, never to return." :(

Though it is strange that it feels so so sad that the Elves are leaving... when for many it is a return home, and to kin they haven't seen for thousands of years, once dead and now living... but we see it from the perspective of Middle-earth.

"Lestways" is a neat word I should remember.

Tolkien's work with sound... the silence and Sam who can be heard working in the garden... is marvellous in this chapter.

Oh, and here comes the first allusion in the LotR tradition... "chance, but not chance", "meant to find the Ring and not by it's maker" indeed!

Tbh even the Silm which is usually more open about things, goes "a great Doom was upon him" or something whenever matters of Providence are discussed, so that's just a peculiarity of Tolkien's.

Not that every single time "fate" is discussed it means that, imo, but never mind.

"What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!" "Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy not to strike without need"... "He deserves death." "Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement." - very student-of-Nienna-coded.

[iwantedmurder]

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✙ 𓂅 ♱ Favorites and Interests ! 𓍢ִ🍊˖

🥂. Artists ⨾ 12 RODS, 100 gecs, 311, Aphex Twin, Atmosphere, Blacksquares, bôa, BUCK-TICK, Car Seat Headrest, Daron Malakian and Scars On Broadway, Deftones, DIR EN GREY, Enon, Fear Factory, Foo Fighters, Frank Ocean, Genitorturers, gulu gulu, Hole, Hot Freaks, Incubus, Indigo De Souza, Isaur, Jack Off Jill, JILUKA, Julie, kaneto-juusei, Kimya Dawson, Kittie, Kitty Craft, Knifehandchop, Korn, Lil Peep, Mac Miller, Machine Girl, MEJIBREY, Mylène Farmer, Nastyona, Nine Inch Nails, No Doubt, of Montreal, Oingo Boingo, Pavement, Pixies, Plastic Trees, Plumtree, Pouya, Pretty Sick, Primus, Radiohead, Satanicpornocultshop, Scarling., Sewerslvt, Sexy Sushi, She Wants Revenge, Slowdive, Snot, Steve Lacy, $uicideboy$+Solos, Sweet Trip, System of a Down, The Garden+Solos, Talking Heads, The Cardigans, The Cure, The Moldy Peaches, The Smashing Pumpkins, The Smiths, TOOL, Toy-Box, Tyler, The Creator, Weezer, Vs Self.

📠. Foods ⨾ Seafood/Fish is my ultimate favorite, as well as anything butterscotch, caramel, coconut, horchata, and mango flavored. Dr. Pepper, Baja Blast, Shirley Temples are my favorite sodas! My favorite cake is pound cake. I would die for and love to collect tea. <3

⛲️. Likes ⨾ Art, Birds, Body Mods, Cats, Cosplay, Cute Things, Drawing, Dressing-up, Editing, EDM, Fashion, Horror, Latex, Leatherwork, Makeup, Making Clothes + Jewelry, Making Friends, Organization, Piercings, Playing Games, Rage Comics, Raves, Scary Things/Themes, Seals, Snakes, Tattooing, Toy Collecting, and Visual Kei Fashion/Music. I like to stay up at late hours tending to my ghoulish lifestyle.

💉. Medias ⨾ 8:11, Creepypastas, Cry of Fear, Cookie Run: Kingdom, Dead Plate, Death Note, Dorohedoro, Dungeon Meshi, Five Nights At Freddy’s, Guilty Gear, Half Life+HLVRAI, Hello Charlotte, House M.D., Identity V, Jujitsu Kaisen, Metalocalypse, Mob Psycho 100, Resident Evil, Rick and Morty, Roblox, and Soul Eater.

. MASTERPOST COLLECTION ⨾

Nothing here yet… 🫖

. MY TAGS ⨾

#<3 - Posts I enjoy!

#Me - Mepilled/My Personas/Kin. :P

#Mood Board - All of my mood boards. :)

#OCs - All of my original characters.

｀𓂅⌕🪦 ）DNI. 𓍢ִ 🩺˖

Ableists.

Anti-Semites.

Bigots.

Exclusionists/Transmeds/Terfs.

Homophobes.

Islamophobes/Xenophobes.

Negativity/Hate.

Pedophiles/Proship/MAPs.

Racists.

Sexists/Misogynists.

Zionists.

This INCLUDES people who joke at the expense of any mentioned topics but claim not to support discrimination.

[asters-random-sideblog]

hey guys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

my name is aster.

my pronouns are she/her/they/them.

my main is @anxiety-lemsbian

If you want other blogs to follow my art/music sideblog is @phoebes-bridges

i love musicals, especially hamilton, matilda and heathers

my comfort movies are mamma mia and high school musical

likes: cats, phoebe bridgers, finland, vintage teacups, watercolours, music, bracelets, queer people, radio silence, taylor swift, rain, cardigans, knitted vests, embroidery, green, lorde, dangerfield, drawing, quirky stuff, ducks, stars, girls, tumblr, tacos, art, ballgowns, long skirts, oversized shirts/jumpers, sweetpeas, rainbows, alice oseman, daisies, mochi, lily of the valley, eliza and the delusionals, pale sunlight, typewriters, rotary phones, earrings, like three people, lavender, floral scented soaps/conditioners, peppermint lip balm, blue eyes, the texture of velvet, being alone, apple pie, gilmore girls, people using my correct pronouns, heartstopper, little women, reading, nice pink watermelon, british accents, a flower fairies treasury, sarcasm, sunflowers, the ocean when it’s raining or dark, stuff that’s naturally grey (rainclouds, etc.) lemon iced tea, frances janvier, spanish, macarons, bubble tea

dislikes: math, global warming, migraines, the sun, tight clothes, pimples, homophobia, spiders, racism, transphobia, shitty people, terfs, aphobia, tiktok, wasps, watermelon when it’s too red and floury, my father, school, most people, being bad at spanish, being alone when I feel people will judge me for it, depression, anxiety, people being ignorant, my mother, drunk people, smokers, feeling uncomfortable, most men, vomit, rejection, being delusional

i’m a minor

i speak un peqeño español and i love cats

my pronouns page:

i love osemanverse but im especially addicted to radio silence, solitare and loveless (i kin frances sm)

im gay (in a sapphic way)

BETH MARCH STAN OMG

love love love darcy olsson and sam kerr lol

i loveeeee enola holmes

im in love with the one bracelet i own

i have depression and anxiety, and probably asd and adhd

feel free to drop into my inbox at any time i love getting asks

i like sleeping

this is a list of songs i claim as my own:

liability, ribs, no better, stoned at the nail salon and sober II (melodrama) by lorde

happiness is a butterfly and cinnamon girl by lana del rey

not strong enough, anticurse, letter to an old poet and true blue by boygenius

meteor shower by cavetown

the story of us, seven, illicit affairs, you’re on your own kid, would’ve could’ve should’ve, if this was a movie , hoax, i don’t wanna live forever, right where you left me, i can see you, invisible string, the lakes, mirrorball and this is me trying by taylor swift

motion sickness, moon song, graceland too, garden song, kyoto and i know the end by phoebe bridgers

watch you sleep and rue by girl in red

there it goes and you’re just a boy (and i’m kinda the man) by maisie peters

summer child by conan gray

all-american bitch, brutal, deja vu, lacy, bad idea right?, hope ur ok, teenage dream, get him back! and good 4 u by olivia rodrigo

just exist and cigarette by eliza and the delusionals

ok i think im done

am i done?

i think imma make an aesthetic board actually

lets do it!!!!

also pls tell me if ur uncomfortable being called babe/darling/love

general DNI's apply, terfs, homophobes, transphobes, NSFW accounts etc etc

have a wonderful day i love you :)

[xxdemonicheartxx]

DOGMA CHOIR SERIES

A flightrising lore post

Ch 1. Nimue, The Sundrop of Life

check out the freaks(\affectionate) here

Living in the Shifting Expanse is already.... strange. The heat lightning, the endless amount of fulgurite, the way your path slithers and shifts right in front of you and the stars are a concept never seen lest you risk the thin atmosphere beyond the endless storms.

The Ivory Eye Tribe is a well established clan of dragons that span loosely across the whole territory, more so passive aid than any aggressive conquerors. Their most well noted locations of occupation are the Wiretangle Walk, embedded deep into the stone formations, threaded quietly within the Carrion Canyon within pueblos shared generously with beastclan flocks and a lone monolith of stone in the Charged Barrens.

Rikke and Wayward oversee the shifting expanse and help often so long as you can teach them something new or share something wildly unique, their price is always absurd but cheap. The strange is valued amid this troupe.

-

And strange had found them. On a particularly hot and windy night, shutters closed, doors shut and tarps hung over belongings to keep the sand away did something truly bizarre arrive. The blackened night, humming with heat lightning, lit up brilliantly like the day, a glittering streak plummeting into the Charged Barrens before snuffing out. the night silent once again. The outpost known as "The Old Gardens Tearoom" in the Barrens was about three to five miles away from ground zero, the head of the post, SlateLip, an aged and grey coatl, roused her companions before taking wing to the impact site.

In a glass impact crater was some burning substance that had smelted the sands and shattered it, sliding down to the core of the fragile bowl, SlateLip approached the mass. The heat was radiant, once her eyes adjusted to the warm glow could she see bright orange feathers glowing like hot steel, sparks flying harmlessly in the immediate area. Nudging the mass of embers carefully, proved this creature to be flesh and bone, and warm like the sun.

However its voices proved disorienting as it lifted itself slowly, shakily, ready to crumple. SlateLip being a mother, grandmother, matron, and mentor put her much larger body to its side and held it up without thinking. Ot at least under its wing where its side should've been. There was no body to be seen, but it could be felt.

"Are you injured? Can you walk? Let me help you" SlateLip's crackly voice cooed to the individual, laced with worry. She had seen things that came from the Forbidden Portal and knew this was not some dangerous rift jumper.

Numerous voices all spoke at once, no less than three at a time "I am..... tired..." "Well, sweetheart is it okay for me to carry you?" "...please"

Dozens of eyes manifest and look to SlateLip. orange, watery, scared. SlateLip would've been terrified too if she wasn't so worried for this individual. She crouches her feathery body low and helps nudge the mass of heat and light and eyes onto her shoulders, under her wings. The warmth sinking into her feathers, soothing old aches.

Hours later, arriving back to the Tearoom enters the old dragon. Greeted by Rikke, Wayward, Gelerox, and even Haren. The ruckus of the meteor was noted by the whole tribe and its main figureheads were all present.

"SlateLip, love, are you well?" Rikke's motherly voice speaks first, soft and filled with concern. Her massive antlered head bumps against SlateLip's gently in a caring greeting.

"I am well, but I fear for our guest"

"I see no visitors in your establishment, feathered kin." Gelerox, Rikke's mate, was gruff always, but SlateLip knew he was concerned, she hummed in coatl to him her reassurances and he relaxes visibly with a soft nod.

Lifting her wings like a mother swan, she reveals the living heap of burning coals, letting it spill into the surplus of cushions found in the Tearoom for its guests. A collective silence gathers over the group.

"What..." Haren starts, her withered voice creaking from deep in her chest "Who" SlateLip corrects softly "..Who.... who did you find?" "I haven't learned their name yet," SlateLip nudges the shimmering individual, "sweetheart, wake up for me... do you have a name?"

There's a pause as some of its eyes appear, opening blearily. Theres a heat shimmer where a body would be.

"Nimue." It's voices ring in unison,sounding like a choir or some vast machine.

The candles in the room flair to life, shimmering brightly in response to the name being spoken by its owner. The dragons all shift as they feel the power of the name welling in their scales and humming behind their teeth. Haren crumples into a reverent bow with a hushed gasp.

Rikke, Wayward and Gelerox all note this shift from their scholar.

"Haren. Who did we find...." Wayward's voice croaks out, knowing the enormous ridgeback's stubborn nature bends to very, very few. Her four dark eyes boring into the clan's director with a tense anxiety.

-

"An angel... Nimue, the Radiant Healer"

[existentialflirt]

He should have been back to Heaven ages ago. If he were to be honest, he had no idea why he’d been assigned to watch over Eden. It wasn’t his usual scene, but then again the angel had always been the odd one out. Since the creation of all the stars, galaxies, and other heavenly bodies, he’d become utterly obsessed and his fascination had only grown during his time on Earth. Since the war, he’d started to realize that he didn’t belong in Heaven, yet not blasphemous enough to be cast out. Instead his kin huffed and rolled their eyes in his general direction. The mad angel who whispered to the stars. 

Crowley — the name he had quietly taken for himself because names held power — stood as he sensed a presence behind him. “Give me a few more minutes, something amazing is about to hap…pen,” he trailed off as he turned and realized he wasn’t being retrieved by an archangel. Instead there was a man…well, man-shaped person taking confident strides across the garden walls to meet him. 

He was a bit shorter than Crowley, but that did nothing to diminish his bearing. There was something about him that drew the eye, quite beyond the fact that he was nice to look at with his softly curling hair, black shot through with a dark shade of grey, much like the colour of his robe. Crowley knew he wasn’t an angel. Something about the way he moved closer, his eyes dark as pitch, intent on him in a way that made Crowley painfully self aware that he was in the company of a Fallen One.

“Oh. Hello,” Crowley greeted warily, wishing he hadn’t mislaid his weapon. Not that he'd use it but it would make him feel a bit safer in the face of a demon that was looking at him like he might devour him. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear as the wind buffeted his reddish-gold curls.

His trepidation evaporated as a bright streak of light illuminated the sky. Crowley gasped and turned his attention back to the skies. He gripped the demon’s upper arm and pointed to the skies. Crowley could barely breathe as the stars seemed to fall from the skies. 

“Will you look at that?” the angel gasped. “It’s more beautiful than I imagined.”

@v0litioncheck for demon!Aziraphale

[greyklein]

Random Poem:

Ode to a Rock

By Grey Klein

Praised be the little rock

Forced from its own proud place

With divinity mocked

Kidnapped by the human race

Praised be the little stone

Now small and ashamed

Taken from its own

Laid in a garden, renamed

Praised be the grand boulder

To stand, a totem for its kin

A grand guardian soldier

To protect his kind from human sin

Praised be the ever-stretching ground

A community without the other

A place so profound

That there is not another

So respect the little rock

You see now a god

A god that cannot walk

A small divinity’s facade

[sliptohk]

Prompt #19: Weal

Absent-minded. Persistent. Self-destructive. All were excellent descriptors for Qata, at least so far as those who knew her passingly well would attest. All true, of course, but far too often strangers fell into the trap of granting her another undeserved label.

Harmless.

A strange leap of logic, undoubtedly charmed by the eccentric behavior of the Keeper, without fully grasping just what they were in truth. Like some cherished professor, they were lulled by the obsession they had with one all-consuming passion. While that interest was something holy dreadful, some still failed to place a far more appropriate label upon such single-minded individuals.

Terrifying.

While there was no masking the tattoos that crawled across the Ooja's face, it was not until she shed that robe that one could fully appreciate just how many of them covered the rest of her. Like some overgrown garden, the dark-grey of her skin bloomed with all manner of toxic plantlife, marked indelibly with dark-green ink. Among their roots squirmed a veritable swarm of venomous vilekin, captured so perfectly as to seem alive when slim muscle moved. A superstitious mind would presume the very essence of them had been subsumed. Somewhat accurate, as those markings were well-mixed with a taste of them.

Trophies.

The need of her kin to limit themselves to those physical manifestations of divine toxin grated on Qata. Her displays of mastery just further proof that they knew so little about that which they mixed. Had such a small hand in bringing forth ever more wondrous creations into the wider world. Such fleeting things could exert their influence on the world about them with naught but that which was native to their natural selves. It seemed a logical conclusion that one well acquainted with the very essence of poison could similarly enforce their will. But it would require far more than a desire and passing talent. Luckily, Qata possessed such traits.

Prodigy.

It was an understandable desire to inflict ill upon those around you, avoiding the bite of discomfort yourself. But to abstain was to limit oneself. Only when veins swelled with vile cocktails could one intimately understand the experience. Lost in the ebb and flow of one's own aether as it twisted and contorted before the influence of that foreign affliction. Those sensations so clearly tied to the abnormal deviations from the normal flow of life. Though kin would chastise the young miqo'te for all the time lost in the grip of those doses, it was simply because they failed to understand the importance of the process. Once must always trust the process.

Communion.

Afflicting another was a balancing act. Too little, and one gained nothing. Too much, and it became nothing but a tool for murder. An arrow could kill even more effectively, but there was no art to slaughter. Death was a clear failure, proof that the experiment exceeded the ability one had to control it. True mastery was only on display when the one could nudge their subject to the physical and mental limits, before drawing them back to a state so hale and hearty that one would have never guessed they had so recently courted oblivion. A common assassin only saw a tool. The healer, an obstacle to the patient. To an Ooja, the beautiful complexity of life itself.

Infatuation.

As ever, Qata learned most when practicing upon herself. To emulate the twist of vital energies in mimicry of the many concoctions that had ravaged her throughout the years. Forcing her own heart to race, then slow. Blood to thin, then thicken. Even flesh to begin that horrifying slide into the necrotic, before returning to its normal, healthy grey. Rigid attention required to so mangle the aether of a subject, the slightest lapse causing them to snap back into a mundane alignment once again. To come so close was frustrating. Others would find that final mountain too daunting, resigning themselves to alchemical pursuits instead. But the Keeper only felt the intoxicating thrill of brilliance just past the next moonrise.

Progression.

Like many noteworthy things, it was a fateful alignment of factors that finally brought the final piece into the poisoner's eager hands. The sight of a bow wrapped hastily about a gift sitting untouched beneath the Starlight tree, its crimson pattern drawing violet eyes. Something about it spoke. Screamed. Fingers twisting in emulation of its swooping turns, before neatly knotting the threads of aether. Already they began to unravel, but it was simply because they had yet to get their own lovely adornment. A gift from Qata to the nearest unfortunate, a taste of her own aether slithering through to neatly secure the new flows in place. It was a contagious energy as she celebrated the breakthrough, or at least a convulsive one for the gifted. There was even greater exhilaration at the ease with which the Keeper unlaced her aether to restore them once more.

Discovery.

Many would never see past the unintentional charms of Qata, the founder of the Ooja legacy of Poison Mages. Never take her for more than a curiousity within Ul'dah, or a backwoods rarity among the swamps of her homeland. Never realizing that a simple lack of animosity and bloodlust was no guarantee of benevolence. A pure product of her tribe's teachings, even when wholly unafflicted by the cruelty and callousness of her kin. Despite only a child-like adoration for the poisonous arts, her creations would earn a scornful label among future generations.

Monstrosity.