#the story i've been talking about

[lordgrimwing]

Nesting

Gil-galad hadn’t seen much of Elrond over the last several days. That, in and of itself, wasn’t too unusual; they were both busy people, after all. But he’d spoken to him briefly last night as he was heading to his study after dinner and the apprentice was just getting back from the Hall of Healing. So he knew he’d come back to the house instead of falling asleep in the Hall or (even worse) somewhere along the streets between there and here. He wanted to talk to him about an upcoming gala, one with visiting dignitaries from Doriath, but his friend looked like he was nearly dead on his feet, so he let the moment pass, telling himself they could talk over breakfast the next day—Elrond should have the day off from the Hall if his memory served him, so he should make an appearance at the morning meal, simple as it was.

Which was all well and good, up until he checked his schedule and realized he was supposed to attend the agriculture council this morning. The council always met at a terribly early hour. Honestly, he didn’t even know why he was the one who had to attend, he knew next to nothing about farming or harvesting or anything else related to agriculture beyond the eating of delicious food. He must just be low enough on the peon ladder to get the meetings no one else wanted. The 'why' really didn’t matter because now he had to leave the house hours ahead of schedule and he couldn’t wait for breakfast if he still wanted to talk to Elrond, which he very much did.

So, he went to his room and knocked on the door.

“Elrond,” He called, opening the door. “I apologize for the horribly early visit, but I—” 

He swallowed the rest of his words. The room was empty.

Elrond wasn’t there. In fact, it looked like he hadn’t been there all night: the bed was perfectly made, and the pitcher of water the servants left on the occasional table was completely untouched. The half-elf was generally a very tidy person, but he wasn’t so obsessed with order as to keep things exactly the way he’d found them. Had he not used his room last night?

Puzzled, he stepped out of the room and looked up and down the quiet hall. Where would Elrond sleep if not in his room? This was very peculiar. He should have set the oddity aside and gone to prepare for the council, but if there was one thing he liked, it was sniffing out a good mystery. He began checking the other unused guest rooms.

Fifteen minutes and half a dozen rooms later, he stood outside his own chambers, no closer to finding his wayward friend. Baffled, and slightly concerned, he started toward the stairs down to the kitchen. Perhaps the cook, who always arrived frightfully early, saw Elrond or had some idea for where he might have gone off to.

As he neared the tightly spiraled staircase mostly used by the servants for quick access to different floors, he passed an old closet, hardly used these years except for the occasional guests who brought more than they could keep in their rooms. Gil-galad had no reason to stop here, except that as he passed the door he thought he heard the faint sound of something moving inside. 

He paused. 

Oh, he hoped that wasn’t some animal that decided to move into the unused space. The house really was built for grander affairs than even he could pull together on a regular basis, and it seemed like every few months he heard about another nest of little critters getting relocated after someone found them living in a too-long unused spot. He didn’t particularly want to deal with angry little creatures who’d just had their home disturbed, but if he just continued on, he might forget about it entirely and not ask anyone to look into it later. Steeling his nerves, he put his hand on the little handle and opened the door.

Inside, he was confronted by a mound of blankets and winter clothing twisted together into a mass that managed to keep its shape when the door opened. In the center of the fabrics, nestled comfortably under what looked suspiciously like a tablecloth he'd seen last week, his eyes half hooded and smiling slightly in dreamy content, lay Elrond.

Gil-galad stared at him in open-mouthed surprise. What in all of Middle-earth was he doing sleeping in a closet? He said as much, voice high with shock.

Elrond blinked, his eyes coming back into focus as he shook himself and looked up. His expression quickly changed from profound relaxation to surprise and then embarrassment. He blushed, color rising in his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” He apologized, uncurling himself in the tight space and sitting up, somehow still looking comfortably nestled in the mound of material. 

“What are you doing in here?” Gil-galad asked. This couldn’t possibly be more comfortable than a bed with a proper mattress. 

“I’m sorry,” He said again, picking up the hem of a garment that looked suspiciously like one of Gil-galad’s winter riding robes which should have been shut away in storage until the weather cooled. He held it up to his chest like some kind of flimsy barrier. “I tried finding someplace where I wouldn’t get in the way.”

“‘Get in the way’?” Gil-galad repeated, baffled. He looked at the pile of fabric, this time realizing that it wasn’t just a randomly thrown-together collection of unused bedding and clothes. It looked, albeit poorly made, like a nest. “Are—Elrond, are you nesting?”

The half-elf blushed harder and hid his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean to!” He exclaimed. 

Gil-galad was horrified. “You can’t nest in here,” He reached out to take one of the quilts.

Elrond’s hand shot out as if to stop him. 

He froze, fingers hovering over the old quilt, and looked up. To his surprise, his friend looked like he was on the verge of tears. “This isn’t—” He began to say but was interrupted.

“You’re right,” Elrond sniffled. “I shouldn’t have taken these things. They’re yours and I’ll put them back where I found them so you can use them. I shouldn’t have let myself take them in the first place. I’m sorry, I’ve inconvenienced you. You must have better things to do with your morning than tracking all this down.” 

He rose on his knees and began picking up the top layer of the nest. Gil-galad felt almost physically ill at the distress on his face at the prospect of pulling apart what he’d so painstakingly built. 

“Wait,” He said. “That’s not what I meant.”

Elrond looked at him cautiously, the embarrassment still clear on his face but mingled now with a touch of shame that made Gil-galad’s chest clench.

He sat back on his heels, making it clear that he wasn’t about to go anywhere. As calmly as he could, he said, “You shouldn’t be nesting in a closet. You don’t need to hide.” 

Looking a little confused, Elrond settled back down on the fabric, unconsciously snuggling against the armful of clothes he’d picked up. “I’m not hiding,” He said. “I just don’t want to be in anyone’s way.”

“How would nesting in your room, on an actual bed, put you in anyone’s way? It’s your room.” Gil-galad said, feeling like he was missing something.

“I don’t want to be in my room,” Frustration flashed in his friend’s voice. 

“Why?” He made a point of ensuring all the rooms were perfectly comfortable. He liked comfortable things.

Elrond squinted back at him and his tone suggested that was a rather foolish question. “It’s too big and empty.”

“So you’d rather be in a closet?” 

He groaned and clutched at the makeshift bedding. “It’s out of the way.”

Gil-galad furrowed his brow. As far as he understood, the point of nesting wasn’t to hide in some small, out-of-the-way spot, all alone. In fact, it generally involved a lot of cuddling and spending time with romantic or platonic friends. He couldn’t wrap his head around why Elrond would want to shut himself away and avoid everyone else in the house.

“Is this a Fëanorian thing?” He asked. 

The half-elf came to Mithlond from one of the nomadic bands. While nothing like the savage avari tribes in the eastern wildlands, the Fëanorians kept themselves separate enough from the rest of the realm to develop their own peculiar traditions. He wouldn’t put it past them to have some kind of taboo on nesting.

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say, as Elrond’s expression grew suddenly defensive.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” He amended, even though he had. Thanks to all the trade meetings he attended, he had a better understanding than the average citizen of how important those wandering groups were to the economy and particularly in maintaining contact with the human settlements far to the north. That didn’t mean he couldn’t find them odd and off-putting at times. “It’s just that it feels like we may be running into a cultural difference. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you can’t nest in here—and you can! If that’s really what you want to do. But you don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind,” Elrond said quickly, not nearly as defensive as he’d been before.

Gil-galad sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You don’t mind a lot of things that I, and most everyone else here, think are absolutely intolerable. Could you explain why you want to nest in this old closet?”

He knew it wasn’t his friend’s job to explain himself or his upbringing to anyone, least of all a minor member of King Finarfin’s court, but he wouldn’t be able to focus all day if he thought the other was hiding because he didn’t want to be a bother—which he never was—or, worse yet, because Gil-galad did something to make him think the behavior wasn’t acceptable. 

That last part was a truly horrible thought. “Wait,” He said. “Did I do something that made you feel unwelcome?”

“No!” Elrond exclaimed, releasing the comforting material and taking one of his hands between his own. “No, you’ve been nothing but unbelievably kind and welcoming, even if you do drag me off to every event you can.”

Of course, he did. As his patron, it was his duty to set him up for the most successful future possible, and in Lindon that included introducing him to as many powerful figures as he could manage. Plus, those parties were far more pleasant when he had Elrond to talk to.

“Then why do you want to hide?” 

“I’m not hiding,” Elrond insisted despite all appearances to the contrary. “I’m—I—” He struggled over whatever he was trying to say, flustered. 

Gil-galad squeezed his hand encouragingly.

Elrond inhaled, his shoulders hunching up to his ears. “There isn’t much opportunity to nest,” He said the word like it was some kind of ill omen, “while traveling. We’re usually moving around too much to have the urge. But if you do get it and can’t shake it, the only option is to take space in one of the wagons and try to make do or else make the whole group stop while you make a nest somewhere quiet. And it’s so frustrating for everyone because we need to keep going but we can’t. 

“It’s different when we set up a longer camp. We’ll stay for a few fortnights sometimes, and that’s more than enough time to build a nest and get through it. And if you want someone in the nest with you, there’s always someone around who doesn’t mind doing nothing for a little while.” He exhaled heavily, his entire body seeming to shrink down from the loss. “I can’t do that here.”

“Of course you can,” Gil-galad said, keeping his voice calm and reassuring. 

“I can’t,” Elrond insisted firmly. “I don’t have family here, or a tribe. I hardly know anyone outside of the Hall besides Erestor and you. He detests everything to do with being like this, and I can’t bother you when you already do so much for me.”

‘You damn well can,’ He almost said. Instead, he pressed his free hand to his chest and said, with complete sincerity, “I am honored that you feel safe and comfortable enough in my house to nest, and as my dear friend, I am more than happy to spend as much time with you as I can.”

Elrond looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself at this, so Gil-galad patted the edge of the pile and asked, “Mind if I join you now?”

His face lit up and he shifted to one side, making a little room for him to squeeze in beside him. The closet was not designed for one, let alone two occupants so it was a snug fit. Gil-galad had to hike up his robes and shimmy his way in, apologizing when he invariably trod on some part of the other. Elrond gave no indication that he minded in the slightest and pressed up against him as soon as he’d settled. 

Gil-galad shifted around until he could rest his cheek on the top of Elrond’s head, and soon found himself with two armfuls of very happy and very cuddly half-elf. As cramped as he was, this still beat listening to counselors drone on and on about the latest harvest or how many sheep had sore feet. 

They stayed like that, half sitting, half lying, for a good long while. 

Eventually, he felt movement beside him and opened his eyes—when had he closed them?—to see Elrond shifting around as he pulled up parts of the bedding with his fingers and toes.

“What are you doing?” He asked, fascinated. 

Elrond stopped, and from how his voice sounded, he was surely blushing. “Making it more comfortable.” 

“Ah,” Was his reply. Then, because he couldn’t help himself and because there was something so profoundly uncomfortable with thinking about anyone shutting themself away in a dark closet because they didn’t want to be perceived as a burden, he added, “A bed really would be better for that.”

Elrond sighed and pressed his face against his shoulder. “I don’t want to be in my room.”

“Because it’s too empty, right.”

They were quiet for a bit. Elrond resumed fluffing up the bedding, his breath coming out in little huffs as he worked. Gil-galad pondered the issue.

At length, he spoke again. “Are you in here because you don’t want to be in your room, or because you want to be in here specifically?”

Elrond twisted his shoulders so he could look up at him. “I don’t want to be in my room or in anyone’s way.” 

Gil-galad hummed in thought. “What about my room?” He could see the argument building in the other’s expression, so he pressed onward. “You can’t say you’re in the way if I invite you.”

A pause, and then, “But you need your bed.”

He snorted. “I certainly don’t need to sleep in it until tonight. Not to say you should be done by then. There’s more than enough room for two.” 

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Elrond asked, his voice small and muffled as he hid his face again.

“Of course not,” Gil-galad ran a hand down his companion’s unbraided hair. He rather surprised himself with the touch, it felt far more intimate than he expected.

“If you change your mind, you can tell me to go and I will.”

“I’m sure I won’t.”

“But you can.” 

He really was insistent over some of the most peculiar things. “Thank you for letting me know.”

They settled for a moment, Gil-galad not wanting to push too hard. He had plenty of time before he needed to leave for a meeting that he really couldn’t skip. There was no rush.

Elrond took a deep breath. “I’m ready to go.”

Gil-galad sat up, his back complaining at the movement after spending so long in such an odd position. “Excellent.”

“You don’t mind if I bring this too?” He asked, hesitant again as he delicately picked up an old hat. 

“I rather hoped you would. Mind if I help?”

“Please.” Elrond laughed at himself, “It’s a bit more than I meant to gather.”

Together, they collected up the odd assortment of quilts and clothes and curtains and, yes, even a saddle blanket, and walked to Gil-galad’s room.

[egophiliac]

(almost) four years in, and I finally had time to draw something for the anniversary! woo! 🎉🎉🎉

[lilybug-02]

Wow. That could not have turned out worse.

Part 23 || First || Previous || Next

--Full Series--

This comic will be on Holiday Hiatus this December and January! While on a cliffhanger? What a scam! >:/

[bizarrelittlemew]

calling it right now that season 3 starts like this

[rainbyte]

Top ten would be REALLY funny friends highkey

[biblically-accurate-dca]

@vanweek2024 day 6 - spare

vanny goes bowling !

[coquelicoq]

as a huge unreliable narrator enjoyer i love the fact that the raven tower is narrated by someone who cannot lie. so the narration is not unreliable, and any kind of uncertainty is always couched in "here is a story i have heard" or "i imagine", but it scratches the same itch as unreliable narration because the evidentiality of the narration is still so central, just in the opposite way. stories that don't care about where the narrator is getting their information or what biases are present in the way that information is shared with us are on one end of a spectrum, and stories that do care about those things are on the other end, and the raven tower is firmly situated alongside the unreliably narrated stories even though the whole point is that the narrator is as motivated as it is possible to be to never say something that is untrue. and it's fascinating to see how ann leckie manages to build suspense and subvert expectations without really at any point deliberately misleading the reader. every time i reread one of her books, the bouncing of the dvd screensaver in my brain gets a little more frenetic. how does she do what she does. ann leckie what is your secret.

[ratgirlexe]

To wrap up my thoughts on HDG as horror, now that I’m no longer in severe pain and writing my thoughts at 3 am:

I think the best summary of it all is that it’s hard for me to go into any given story and feel truly horrified, because I know on a meta textual level that everything is going to work out in the end, and the characters will likely be happier than when they started. I don’t know how to suspend my disbelief in the idea that ultimately things will work out, so even if the main character goes through any number of acts which are horrifying in *theory*. I almost empathize more with the affini putting them through that experience, more so than the character who’s point of view I’m seeing things from.

Are you a rebel feralist being put through awake surgery for your haustoric implant? It might be the scariest experience of your life, but that just means you get to be a floret now! You’ll have someone to care for and love you forever, and you’ll never have to be alone. Give it a week and you’ll be thanking them for doing so.

How about if you’re a terminally ill patient at end-of-life, or in excruciating pain that even the affini can't somehow solve? That's okay! We'll get you on a nice tasty regimen of class-O's, and you'll never hurt or be afraid again. There will be nothing but unending bliss, and you won't even realize that you're hurting. Not all suffering can be prevented, and eventually it all has to end, but heaven is real, and we've placed it inside you. Even in that last situation, which is the most personally scary to me, there's a certain level of bitter sweetness to it all. Maybe it's just the pain I've been in, but there aren't quite as many ways to end someones life that are as kind as bliss never-ending.

Ultimately I think it's just the fact that I know the affini are benevolent within the story, which makes even the most harrowing or scary events take on a more lighthearted tone for me. Yes, getting to where you want to be, where you *need* to be can be really scary. I'm autistic. Change is terrifying, change is death, and some changes can feel too monumental to ever surmount on your own. But to me HDG is a true escapist fantasy that says "Even if this change is scary, even if you can't choose to change for the better, even if the process hurts or makes you feel like you're dying, I'll be here with you to hold your hand and guide you through it. You don't have to go through it alone, and by the end you'll be able to blossom into who I know you can be."

And to me that's just not scary or horrifying. That's something that I yearn for each and every day.

[frootbyethefoot]

caught up with drdt. everyone in this class is trained in the art of escalating minor arguments to life changing violence. not a single normal person in this group. it's awesome never change drdt cast.

[cloudiness]

btw never seen an episode of '9-1-1' in my life ever but i know about the general existence of 'buddie' through this hell-site and it has just come to my attention that one of those two is gonna have a moustache next season and idk why but that moustache is suspicious, something's going on, I feel like something fruity will happen because of that moustache, you guys need to get ready

[douwatahima]

gotta be honest gang, i'm starting to feel like i'm never gonna love another show as much as i love ofmd

[somegurl8]

Hey guys did you know that tomorrow will make one full year since season 2 episode 39 of Prime Defenders 😁😁😁😁 And in less than 2 weeks from now will be one full year since the end of Prime Defenders season 2 😁😁😁😁

[the-punforgiven]

Do y'all ever get nightmares that just like, aren't scary?

Like you can tell your brain is trying to make this scary, but you just feel nothing?

[gazkamurocho]

Working hard on that 80s Goromi doujinshi 👀

Also a test for the screentone background xD

[redge]

Things I read on the internet that's a declaration of hate for Kana and my reaction (hoping I feel better after typing them all out)

"Kana makes everything about herself"

Did she want to be an idol? Did she want to be a center girl? (Girlie don't even know what a center girl is hahahaha). In Tokyo Blade, did she want the spotlight? That one time Kana wanted anything for herself is when she told Aqua her new dream. She did not even have a graduation concert. She did not have that movie that director told her about. In 137, she was praised for being a handy actor that can uplift others and improve herself and was described as "lacks opportunity" and many chapters after that, she still did not have an opportunity for herself. Kaburagi said they'd sell her as genius actor but that was not addressed anymore. So where is that she makes everything about herself when nothing was sbout her anyway? Not the idol career. Not as an actress. Not as a human loved back by the one she loves. She did not become anything she ever wanted so really how was this all about her? No I really want to know, how did Kana make everything about herself? Like I am really curious where this is coming from ah why do you hate Kana so much? 🥺

"___ best girl compared to Kana who only cries all the time"

Why can't we just go with the "____ best girl." period. Why do you need to put down a character to praise another character I am genuinely curious. I mean my favourite character has always been Kana but not ever did I hate on Akane or Ruby or anyone because why would I when all these characters have different stories of their own? And why do these girls need to compete with each other anyway?! Who's giving out the crown and sash? What's the point??? Your favourite is the best girl for you. Okay! Other's favourite is best girl for them. Okay, too! That's perfectly normal so why are you fighting each other I do not understand 😭

"despicable for slapping a corpse"

Kana slapping Aqua was something that belonged to them. No one knows that conversation except Aqua and Kana (and us, the readers). Miyako's reaction was very valid because she does not know anything about that conversation. Which is why when Kana told that to the dead Aqua, Miyako's reaction wasn't angry anymore. Miyako was in tears. I honestly would have killed Aqua twice if I were Kana really so a slap is nothing compared to the emotional wreck being in their lives brought her. Kana deserves to be slapped for hurting a corpse yes I agree but Aqua deserves that slap too for thinking that him dying is the great solution to whatever problem they're trying to solve.

"Kana is useless"

And what a heartbreak that is. Kana is perservering, patiently working on all the things she want to happen and absolutely nothing went her way. Kana is a representation of someone that tried and tried patiently but everything she did just made her feel useless. She grabs every opportunity, creates opportunity for herself but she is never enough. If killing one's self was a contest, I'd definitely compete Arima Kana as candidate. I would even forgive her if she just goes feral all of a sudden with all of the things that happened to her. She's useless, you say, but was that her fault?

"Kana does not deserve to be happy"

and why not? I say everyone in Oshi no Ko deserves to be happy. So why deny that to Kana?

But really. Why is she getting so much hate?

[marzipanandminutiae]

if you're terrified for your country's elections next year because a lot of people seem to think the solution to the government handling an international conflict in an abysmal and deplorable way is to let a group of total monsters who would handle it MUCH worse AND also potentially doom huge swaths of oppressed people at home as well as our entire literal planet get into power, by ignoring the way our deeply flawed but also deeply entrenched system realistically works

clap your hands...?

(I cannot understand trying to stop heinous and unnecessary killing- which disgusts and saddens me, too! how could it not?! -by handing the election to people who want to do even more of that exact thing. the math isn't mathing, as they say)