#Orcs Unbound

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Healed by the Orc by Robin O’Connor

Orcs Unbound

Green Orc on hover-cycle saves human mid-air AND meets his mate. This quick easy to read insta-lust-love romance provides a human female with a killer disease to have her wish fulfilled after falling into the arms of the orc who can save her life…in more ways than one. Another fun story by an author I love to read. Thank you to the author for the ARC – This is my honest review. 3-4 Stars

BLURB

Shannon

My vacation turns on its head when ancient stones throw me straight into the arms of an Orc.

Shannon

I’m dying, that’s what the doctors told me. Visiting my ancestral farm in Ireland is the one thing I still want to do. Well, I get to see green. Lots of it, but not in the way I imagined.

When I touch ancient stones, they send me through a portal and into the arms of a real-life Orc on a flying motorcycle. He’s bright, handsome, too young, and oh-so-tempting. But I can’t commit to anything but going home when I know I won’t last another year.

He doesn’t care. He protects me, covets me, temps me. When his whole society conspires to throw me away, he stands by my side.

Blade

My clan wants me to find a mate, and there she is, landing straight in my lap. She’s gorgeous and mutinous. She seems to think she’s too old for me, but I don’t believe that.

I will uncover whatever secrets she hides, the weakness she tries not to show. Even while I endeavor to convince her to stay, to tempt her into my bed.

The overlords are on our tail, eager to throw her off the planet as long as she is unmated. I will dodge them, protect her, and fight them. Nobody takes my mate. She is mine to keep, mine to protect, and mine to heal.

This is a standalone novella and part of the Orcs Unbound series. This steamy sci-fi monster romance features one cheerful, daring Orc, a tough, forty-year-old lady, and a steamy HEA.

ts of it, but not in the way I imagined.

[encyclopediacr]

Tusk Love is becoming a very real novel! Written by Thea Guanzon, with a cover illustrated by Erion Makuo, the favorite novel of Jester Lavorre herself will be published July 1, 2025.

The publisher's summary from Random House Worlds reads:

As the daughter of an ambitious merchant, Guinevere’s path has been predetermined: marry into a noble house of the Dwendalian Empire, raise her family’s station, and live quietly as a lordling’s obedient wife. But Guinevere longs for a life unbounded by expectations, for freedom and passion and adventure. Those distant dreams become a sudden reality when her caravan is beset by bandits, leaving her guards slain and Guinevere stranded alone on the dangerous Amber Road. Her only chance of survival is to travel alongside Oskar, the aloof half-orc who saved her during the attack. Unlike Guinevere, Oskar’s path is not so set in stone. With his mother dead and his apprenticeship abandoned, all that’s left is a long, lonely walk to a land he’s never seen to find family he’s never met. The last thing he needs is a spoiled waif like Guinevere slowing him down—even if the spark between them sizzles with promise. Despite his cold exterior, Oskar is brave and thoughtful and unlike anyone Guinevere has ever met. And while Guinevere may be sheltered, she brings out a softness in him that he has never dared to feel before. As the flames of their passion grow, they realize that soon they’ll need to choose between their expected destinations or their blossoming romance.

You can find more information about this and other Critical Role books at CriticalRoleBooks.com.

[perlen-gold]

A MelkorxMairon story

An Angbang fic!

inspired by saintstars

(link to AO3)

“Come.”

They call me Great Death, the Constrainer. Black Foe of the World, Master of Lies. They say I am merciless and proud, atrocious, barbarous, brutal and ruthless, abominable and terrible to behold, wicked and vicious. They are not wrong.

 “Come,” I whispered, my voice a phantom of its earth-cracking thunder tracing across his heated stone-skin.

I imagined him adorned lightly. Onyx-black, ink-soft lace balming his skin. A hue of jewelry, the rings he so liked, fragrant with flawless gold.

Lose, the scarlet-crimsoned whisper of his hair, embroidering the tickling shadows about him, breathing with a faint, warm glow, lose, unbound, free.

Instead, iron and steel. Rather, I felt it was the blunt taste of metal humming beneath my fingertips., winter-gray and silver-cool.

Never had I hissed at the melody of cutting cold as he, freezing snow and whirling ice. Now, as I envisioned him in soft-light fiber and warmth-glowing fabric, I nearly did.

Instead, I touched upon the spiral shell of Mairon’s armor, inch by inch.

Enough work.

I almost say it.

I feel Mairon tense the moment the words soar upon my tongue. I think his bruises, sprains and scars, so carefully withheld beneath his armor, coil.

My own injuries are throbbing as the mountain’s heart pulsates.

On the tip of my tongue I finger two different syllables, then. I taste them, long and probing. They are not familiar between my lips.

Instead, I murmur, “Come.”

Then try, taste, whisper.

“Please.”

As I stroke the sounds, I feel the remnant scars of my wounds squirm and stretch.

Enough work. I had said those words before quite differently.

He had been absorbed in a long list of parchment, winding and dry, just like now, after an endless day of meetings and councils.

War is an ever-hungry machine that constantly must be fed and patted and attended to. Not I but Mairon is its master who keeps it ever roiling and toiling. Its needs are both endless and unending.

There are weaponries to be forged, armor to be hammered. Hosts of Orcs to be commanded, captains to be instructed, recruits to be trained.

Expedient though they are, Orcs make poor comrades in arms. Constantly squabbling, perpetually fighting each other for position or food or simply the lack of distraction or wit, they are ill-made for cooperation and it takes more than a whip to tame them. Fear might control them but it takes more to make them efficient, Mairon often says.

And efficient he makes them. Orcs and goblins have a natural aptitude for battle, their fighting is simple and crude nonetheless, Mairon often also sighed, and the imbeciles end up killing each other before they even learn how to swing an axe in an accurate arch.

Then there is food and rations to be retrieved and organized, routs to scout and news from spies and traitors to be collected and molded into benefits and advantages.

I knew all of this because Mairon had told me, complained to me of these things more often than I wished and, what was worse by far, even made me listen till I was fed up and bored beyond even my unyielding power. Oh, there was relentlessness in him that heeded neither my ostentatious disregard nor my sour mood whenever he pestered me with these trifles. I might have escaped, oh yes, but he would serve me thrice the tales of battlements in need of improvement, insufficient food resources and incompetent Orc armorers designing poorer battering rams when I hungered for the naked sheen of his skin.

I have always thought Mairon mercilessly vindictive beyond even my desire for revenge.

“Your army, my lord, needs attention”, he would say lilting as skittering pearls and with a tone so quizzacious I might seize his throat eventually which would make him laugh and brush the sweetest gasp against my ear.

Once, I sank my teeth into the tender rose-petal softness of his beautiful neck and he moaned softly into me while he enumerated all the little repairs needed for some dispensable outpost in such a shuddering, smile-curving little voice that I, smeared with his gold-liquor blood, considered biting off his tongue. It made his heedless smile curve even wickeder.

There had been always only one way to silence the brazen little creature.

And for a while he writhed and arched beneath me, trembling, mouth and body sealed, only to continue his speech in the fire-gilded afterglow of our bodies, his throbbing flame-heat and shivering legs still around me.

Oh, even my fell cruelty, which I thrust into him, could not match his own.

This time, however, it was different.

I say war is a machine but, in truth, Mairon is the machine that is war.

Like the rings he so loves for their boundless, immaculate symmetry, none of his designs or schemes knew either end or beginning and it was these endless, tedious things in his fingers around which they always snaked like wild adders eternally, perpetually.

And Mairon is just as endless and snaking.

There is no detail to escape his lidless mind’s gaze. No mosaic stone unset, no jigsaw piece uncontemplated. Every piece my and his spies gathered glides between his sizzling fingertips.

Not a single piece of floating ash is unknown to him. No trifling squabble crumbled under his high boots unseen, no minor sentiment of unrest skittered across his path without his notice. He weaves a single-minded Orc’s gripe into his hair when he rises in the crisp morning, he holds an outpost’s trivial failings in his grasp when setting the chisel in his forge and he slides a letter intercepted over his skin when he undresses in the evening.

I call him my little flame, and it delights his curving dagger smile, for he is neither little nor single-tipped flame.

My troops, on the other hand, my Balrocs and generals and captains and Orcs call him the lidless, sleepless, all-seeing eye. I might be the god they serve but one single gush of wind loosening a lone scarlet-gilded, fire-whipping strand of Mairon’s hair sends them scudding and scurrying as ants.

I did not, or barely, notice at first.

So consumed was I that it was only an irksomeness in the beginning before it grated at my attention, more and more.

Always there had been a piece of something on Mairon’s mind, a roll of parchment in his long-fingered hands, a whispered request in his well-shaped ear, another meticulously drawn map, another scouting route worked out, another keen-eyes report at his sharp-angled elbow.

It was as though catching an industrious spider weaving double the nets or spotting the arctic fox growing twice the pristine fur.

And yet.

I say I heeded not the change, at first. Yet, in truth there was something vexing me outside the range of my vision, like a buzzing fly my dragons cannot see yet not quite bait either.

When then, at long last, it woke me out of my razor-riven raptness, it was like a silent shiver running through the earth meeting a mountain, a cresting wave crashing against a sheer cliff of rock after building for weeks.

Ah, I had not known it had been there.

Suddenly, however, my ire raged clear and raw.

“Enough!”

Ah.

My skin prickling as the stagnant air before a storm.

My voice, having sundered heavens and cleaved continents, a lightning bolt lit.

Plans and maps, plans and schemes, schemes, schemes and plans! I had been surge-swelling with them like a river breaking its bed.

My captains and leaders, Orcs and goblins, their heads snapped around to my seat as if I had broken their necks. However, I was no longer seated. Why had I come to this counsel at all, dark creatures in my service startling and groveling? Mairon had stopped dragging me there long ago and I rarely obliged him when he did.

I did not take notice whether it was letter parchment or outline scroll I tore from Mairon’s hands. A shattering on the onyx black floor, I felt myself towering, looming with my mounting rage.

In the breathing space between us, him and me, my body was sparking at the edges.

Never had I, quite unlike Mairon, endeavored to control my wrath, unlike him who could mask the brightest blaze of anger like ash covers the still-glowing embers within.

Instead, I felt my shape rise and my all-seeing vision expand, fraying at the edges, burn with it.

Whatever it was that I tore from him crumbled into smoke and electric sparks under my hands.

And still he would not look at me.

Ah, there it was, the hilt and pike of my sudden temper which I was fingering like my warhammer, Mairon’s steady gaze still, still, still fastened on what he had been reading an instant before, parchment and scrolls and lesser creatures and, oh, everything without even once in weeks upon weeks and months uncounted looking up at me who was his master.

The fortress around us, the raven-black stone floor beneath our feet shivered with a ringing tremor.

I thought ages to pass but, in sooth, Mairon stared at the quivering remnants of what I had just ripped from his hands much longer while my rage sloshed and billowed into vastness.

Then, his gaze flared into mine.

It was as though a ray of morning light hit me, clear and spear-piercing.

His gold-crystal eyes were aflame as a crisp winter’s dawn. This was the only warning I was given.

I saw his transformation only in shreds ere Mairon lashed himself upon me, flame-gleaming fur and blaze-white teeth.

My wrath was sharp enough to wrap us both and Mairon’s teeth even sharper.

Fire cannot consume the mountain but it can sweep across, melt, mold and scar it beyond recognition.

Ah, and scar each other we did in our conflagration.

If any dark creature, Balrog or maggot Orc had been present, they must have fled for no insect lingers to watch whether slashing rains or whipping winds may triumph over the storm.

Had we been lesser beings, we might have easily slain each other.

Instead, the stone-blind walls around us gasped as we fought and parts of Utumno well-nigh collapsed under our rage.

When at last we both sank against opposite walls, the torches shook under our breaths as grass before the scythe.

My anger, however, fled as swiftly as it had come and his surely must have to.

The air tasted of stale smoke and departing thunder.

As we huffed, I expected him to limp toward me. Even lean against me, his inferno fury and my cosmic wilderness abated and washed away by the great tide of our fighting, leaving as brine-raw and satisfied enough to huff and touch each other’s wounds with well-practiced fingers softly and tender lips. I would have licked his wounds, and more, and his lips could have kissed mine till we shook from a different kind of fury and another quake came upon Utumno ere an unsimilar fatigue settled between us, and then we would have finally tended to each other’s injuries in a more lasting way.

What rags of his fine-woven garment had withstood his skin-changing were torn to shreds by me and fell from his bare skin.

Yes. I expected his sly smile dripping mockingly from his slyer lips.

Though rare, it had no been our first fight, after all.

As our breaths pooled in the empty counsel room, I saw Mairon rise to his staggering legs.

Instead, however, he left as abruptly as he had flared, limping.

He strode from my hall, naked, gold licking beneath the glowing soles of his feet, the hue of fire-lit blood in his whipping hair and gleaming skin the only cover to veil his lithe shape.

A single Orc stumbled from behind an onyx-carved column.

It stared.

And stared.

And stared.

And stared.

“Please”

The sounds touch queerly between my lips.

I feel my eyes, one of crystal-frozen ice and one of molten-moving magma, close against the silence of his shadow-hewn chambers.

There has been neither council nor meeting.

We have not talked since.

Mairon moves not.

My vision is obscured by the dusk of my own eyes.

The dancing darkness within me notwithstanding, I know his eyes, perusing the endless lines on the rustling scroll in his slender hands tenaciously, to have stopped, poised, on one spot alone.

Slowly.

Slowly my scarred hands begin to move.

Gradually, I touch upon what has been shaped unerringly by him. Layer by layer. Piece by piece.

I remember not undoing his or any other armor ever before. Haltingly, my fingers find few gold clasps sleeping beneath.

Iron plate and greave slither ceaselessly against each other, harness and chestplate.

I have never tasted, brushed my tongue against this creation among so many of his, immaculate in its deadly beauty as everything he invents.

But what my scorched hands find is not beauty alone.

Inch for inch, I let my scabbed finger pads slide over smooth plates of metal, one after another. Perfectly round circles of twisting iron, dark as night, black as a midnight’s dream. Slender-long gauntlets gliding sleekly against each other without the slightest hitch.

Polished, my charred fingertips find the glossy plates against his stomach.  

Not a nook or cranny on the metal stretching across the small of his back; neither scratch nor scrape beneath my quiet palms straying along his waist, down his iron-veiled flanks.

No plate hugging his legs, no piece of armor whispering, pressing against his thighs ever requires a drop of slick oil. I can feel it underneath my tingling hands. Not one part of metal will ever rub against its brothers nor bear mark or squeak. Like snake scales rising against each other’s fall.

As I wander him, a thought strikes me like a smiling fish in the presence of the diving king-fisher. That even Aulë himself would envy this. It is coiling perfection lured to making. It is usage spelled into fascination.

Another thought strikes my pricking skin, then. It is not what he has worn before.

My realization is another spell woven by the king fisher. When has Mairon created this new armor? It must have taken him an age of life to master it into being.

When did he do it? Where had I been?

But, of course, no beauty for Mairon without purpose.

I think, even Aulë will envy this.

It may be a day, it may be an age eternal till I draw his body against mine. Bare skin to skin.

Under my hands his armor is coming undone like a mountain peak, year by year, age by age.

I allow my gaze to fall on the graceful line of his neck then, note the lustrous strand of fire-lit hair that coiles around it. The smooth heel of his hand, aligned to the scroll, the tips hidden behind the faded yellow. The sharp angle of his left elbow, the serpentine line of his muscled back. The svelte shape of his ear, the cutting line of his jaw. All this, I merely graze with my gaze, light as raven feathers before I let the knuckles on the back of my fingers follow my eyes’ hushed trail.

Beneath, slashes and lacerations like gouges half-knitted, purple bruises and blood-cusped strains, half-healed.

Wroth and savage had been my violence, vicious and cruel his own.

I expect his skin, his body to be fire scolding, a blaze like a hurricane. My touch, however, evanesces upon contact with it as though one wraith reaches for another.

Somethings tugs at me then, strange-shaped and eternally coined.

He does not stir, does not move.

Still, his fire has not blazed my scarred skin. And still, Mairon’s voice of melting steel has not spoken to me.

I might pry into his mind, of course. What futility. Mairon has never given anything he did not offer first.

Last is his hair, bound tightly, wrought infinitely to the lovely shape of his neck. It is not in my nature to hesitate, not once, and like softest silk each flaming strand loosens between my stroking, combing fingers.

At last, my time is come to speak.

My eyes still veiled by the endless darkness of my own lashes, against the warm fall of his hair I lay my lips.

“Precious.” Murmurs. “It is enough.” Whispers, straight and firm. “Even you have an end to your flames. Even you must rest.” Murmers and whispers from my lips.

My darkness, a fortress. ”Even you must not be consumed by one thing alone in this world.”

Mairon stirs not. And yet, I feel it in the jolt of rigid muscles against my naked skin like a bow-string springing back.

I catch the thought he aims albeit he aims it not at me. It is the first time I hear his golden voice ever since I returned.

It is like laughter, only viler.

You are one to talk.

Around his naked waist and chest my hold tightens. In anticipation, perhaps, of another attack, wondering idly what other beastly form he might use, I look forward to whatever claws and teeth he will sink into me this time with a kind of grim satisfaction.

I palpate that almost-thought  of his idly, turn it around in my silent-grown mind seeking out its facets and angles.

His skin is cool silver light upon the parched flesh of my fingers despite the honed flames it shields within.

No beauty for Mairon without a purpose.

There.

Ah.

Here, at last. A morsel of truth.

Slowly. Gradually, I begin to comprehend. And yet, still, I understand not.

Long is the silence stretching between us, infinite as the darkened night sky, dull as the lessened moon shredded in wispy mists.

Slowly. Slowly, my arms’ force increases. Slowly, the hold of my embrace tightens.

Slowly, I force Mairon’s body around. Force him to turn. This is what I do and this is what I try.

Ah. Many are the minds and brains fooled by his appearance. He might shroud his viper shape in a robe of splendid cloth but I have seen the bare stretch of his arms and shoulders bent over the forge, his back straight and straining. The ones he seduces think him fair and beautiful alone, yet I have heard Orc sword masters threaten their fosterlings with Lord Mairon’s lust for challenge. His legs apart, sinews and muscles aglow in the sheen of the furnace. He would not even have to lift the hilt of his sword. Among the recruits, his physical strength is a legend told at night fire watches.

And with all his strength he is fighting me now, ah, what resistance against the strain of my arms around his back and sides, against my will to bind him to me, force his body around to face mine.

Vaguely, I am wondering once more if he will transform again, now, in this instant, to raise the amount of bristle and teeth and claws he can punish me with or if he will simply sink and dig his gilded nails and incandescent teeth into my flesh as he is.

Neither of us is speaking.

But this. This is more a fight of wills rather than a battle of physical force, and this once, this once in our eons of time, my will prevails over his.

I can feel him straining as his ember-honed cheek comes to rest upon my beating pulse. It is like holding a candle to my chest.

I feel the touch of his breath as warm as sun-lit honey on my chest, flecks of gold in it.

All at once, I am unable to remember. This. The wisp of his fiery hair. The width of his smooth brow. The length of his body, flush against mine. Unable. Unable to remember the last time I felt his gold-leaping warmth seep into my storm-cloud skin.

My injuries matter not. Their circling pain is forgotten like morning mists fracturing at the break of dawn. We move not and do not speak. However, this once, I will not let him escape.

Puzzled yet I am. Pondering. Wondering. I, Melkor, confess I fail to grasp his ire fully.

Would he envy another craftsman thus? Ah, I think not. Too proud Mairon is of his own prowess, too confident, too brilliant in his own skill.

Would he resent thus what he deems utter folly? He has stood and endured far greater whims of mine.

I know the fight to have seeped out of him, now. There is only the pooling of warmth, small huffs against my skin.

I am closing my eyes to darkness and stillness again.

Long is the silence stretching between us.

“Do with them as you please.”

At first, Mairon does not move.

Then, against the total blackness of my eyelids, I can see him stir. Rise. His head tilting back. His fire-honed gaze, at last, upon my face.

My hand opens for him.

They cannot burn me any more than their luminous light already has.

As I open my eyes, despite myself, my gaze falls upon them as splashing water from the sky.

Even before my eyelids lift, I know their lovely glow shedding light over my maimed, scorch-darkened hands. I know not whether Mairon’s eyes follow the lust of my eyes, become drawn and ensnared as mine. If not, I can neither examine it nor him.

Even now I cannot part my gaze with them.

If the moon had been carved into thirds in the bejeweled night, none of it, though born from that same radiance, would have glistered like any of them!

One sun-lit and citrine-hued, bright as sun-filled water. Vivid as the very heart of the earth the other, a thousand rubies aflame. The last, a brilliant, ever-shining, ever-pure, dazzling white.

Even now I am mesmerized at the luminosity of the first light, percolated through the incinerated cage of my fingeres.

Even Mairon’s light of fire-drunk gold almost dulled beside them. Almost.

This, maybe, is what makes me realize the flash of Mairon’s hand toward the blinding light.

All of a sudden, through the luminous splendor and breath-taking, sky-rendering incandescence, fear jolts through me like a thunder-spear.

No, I am no stranger to pain, not even to dread, the loathsome spider be cursed and all her descendants, but never has terror such as this seized at my hammering pulse.

The yell, the roar aimed at Mairon ignites in my throat as volcanoes erupt with spilling fire.

Almost as soon as it builds, I huff out a breath of absurd emptiness. Mairon’s supple fingers have gripped the resplendent silmarils long before my anger rushes in. Beneath his skin, like strands of his own hair, silk shimmers between him and the precious jewels.

Of course.

My chest almost tears with swallowed, frayed laughter.

Whatever rules Mairon’s black-sooted heart, greed is not a part of it.

His fiery gaze is thrumming into mine, the long-lashed gold of his eyes never once wavering to the wonders aglow between our hands. I imagine his wrist flick and a burst of radiant light clattering across the onyx floor.

Mairon’s voice is quenched iron, spitting with cooling water, “I shall cast them into the darkest sea, the deepest pit and highest sky.”

The fury of this world grows between us, gathers in the thunder lightning and earth-shading clouds, a fell music of drums and clangs.

It is arduous at first, cruelly laborious, to wretch my craving stare from them.

I can see Mairon’s eyes follow the length of my glance, the direction of my lusting breath.

They are magnificent in their effulgence, entrancing in their beauty, enrapturing in their unfathomable luster.

Long has the silence stretched between us.

Silently, I speak.

So you shall.

Mairon does blink. Now. Once. An eternity. Twice.

Finally, ultimately, I can see his gold-glittering eyes flicker toward the luminescent jewels in his hand, his gaze falling, cast down.

“I shall forge a crown fit for them and you, my lord,” he murmurs, lowly.

No love for the sea, the earth, the skies?, I think

“They are to be set in a crown by my hands already.” I speak aloud.

There it is, the sneer.

“It is like calling the elven child hoarding heaps of sand an architect.” Mairon returns, slyly as a minx.

Insolent creature, I think, letting the words flutter soft as lashes against his smile-honing lips.

“Not tonight,” I hum, drawing him closer still, pressing against his curving lips, “Tonight you are mine.”

I think, tonight I am yours alone.

Mairon’s limber shoulders rise as he lifts his hands to lay them along my face, his willowy fingers astir, roaming through my hair where there are caught the colors of the night and the light of fading stars. The light in his eyes is enough to blind and scar the whole world and everything that comes after.

They say I am merciless and proud, cruel and pitiless, tyrannical and spiteful, enviously, greedily, recklessly selfish beyond imagination. They call me Master of Lies, Great Death, Black Foe of the World. I feel giddy with delight when I think of it. It is all true.

Let them not see what else I am.

He, whom they call Sauron, whispers into my ear, his arched fingers woven into my shadow hair, his graceful limbs, the length of his pressing body pouring sun-lit heat into mine of melting ice and frozen stone, the smiling cheek of his lips thawing against my ear.

“You have yet to say ‘please’, my lord.”

[slightnettles]

For the @silmarillionwritersguild Jubilee > Potluck Bingo > Elleth's Femslash & Lyrics board > column B, five exact drabbles. CW: possible incest (not explicit) + shamefully literal interpretation of prompts.

I've left signs but you take no notice

Míriel will not return, will not stand in the flesh before Indis again. Not to shame her, as her son is wont to do, for having taken her place in Finwë’s house; nor to speak her love.

Only the thousand treacheries of thread and fabric remain: a tear in Indis’s favourite gown, and the pricking of her needle against her thumb, the blooming of blood on linen, and a red blotch in the shape of Míriel’s profile; the sudden snagging of a ribbon around Indis’s wrist, tightening to a bond; the soft, caressing tangling of her sheets about her thighs.

Say that the wind won't change on us

Nienor climbs first, bare feet braced against the trunk, swift and bold, and Nellas climbs after her, eyes flitting ever upwards. Soon Nienor sits astride a bough, head drawn back in delight, braided hair gold against the grey sky. Wind blows, and leaves rustle loudly. Nienor draws Nellas to sit close beside her.

‘You must not forget this,’ says Nellas, leaning into her warmth.

‘O Elves whose memory is ever living!’ says Nienor, laughing. Pressing a kiss to Nellas’s mouth, she says: ‘But I shan’t.’

Perhaps not - and yet her brother did, thinks Nellas; and leaves scatter in the wind.

If I was Atlantis and you were the sea

She loathes it, loves it; then, at sixteen, she sees it for the first time.

It is wide, grey, bleak; some day all Númenor shall be hers, but not this. It comes lapping at her feet, a cold-tongued hound; she yells in affront, rips up a sheaf - sceptre, whip - of marram grass, lashes the sea. ‘Thief!’ Of a father’s presence, a mother’s happiness.

A wave comes, foam-tipped, and enfolds her. It is so cold she cannot breathe, then so warm between her legs she grows weak-kneed. In the water there is a woman’s face, grey-green, hair-wreathed; it laughs at her.

When we die we will die with our arms unbound

Another might have listened to the worm’s lies, gone hunting after phantoms.

But she is Húrin’s daughter, axe-wielding, a captain of Nargothrond. She runs back to where captives are being led away. Finduilas is among them, in chains; so she leaps, runs the harder.

They meet in the midst of battle. When they kiss, open-mouthed and harsh, their teeth clash and Nienor tastes blood - Finduilas’s, her own. It makes no difference; the Orcs are too many. Finduilas, now freed, hefts an Orkish spear; Nienor lifts her axe. They shall not live long now - but side by side, at the last.

Now three of us here lie

Summer, then autumn, falling to coldness all of a sudden, to frost upon the leaves and on the grass of a morning. To Aerin it feels too early still to light fires, a waste of wood. Instead the three of them share a bed, under heaps of blankets. They speak little; Morwen is ever more silent, and already Rían’s eyes stray ever northwards.

Still they draw together. Their hands entwine; sometimes their limbs. Morwen’s fingers are firm on Aerin’s wrist as she guides her down; Rían’s breath hot and damp against her neck. Stolen warmth, as an east wind blows.

[toopunkrockforshul]

I didn't get full black out like last year (I had all my books I needed but alas, Life really nuked my reading speed and I tried to back load things too much.)

I did some hard mode, but not all, was trying to be less intense about stuff this year lol.

5 star reads:

Those Beyond the Wall by Micaiah Johnson

Thistlefoot by GennaRose Nethercott

A Power Unbound by Freya Marske

The Adventure Zone: The Suffering Game by The McElroys and Carey Pietsch

The Devourers by Indra Das

To Shape a Dragon's Breath by Moniquill Blackgoose

Full details below the cut:

First in a Series (Incomplete) - The Giver by Lois Lowry - I didn't get to this book even though I do own it. It is technically a reread but it's been a while.

Alliterative Title (Hard Mode: The title has three words or more that start with the same letter) - The Scum Villian's Self Saving System by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu - 4.5 stars

Under the Surface (Incomplete) - Delicious in Dungeon by Ryoko Kui - one day I will actually read these

Criminals - Those Beyond the Wall by Micaiah Johnson - 5 stars

Dreams - Greywaren by Maggie Stiefvater - 4.75 stars

Entitled Animals (Incomplete) - The Wolf and the Woodsman by Ava Reid - I am 5% into this book and unsure if I want to finish it

Bards (Incomplete) - Space Oddity by Catherynne M. Valente - have this book out from the library but it is overdue, might come back to it in the future because I did enjoy the first one

Prologue and Epilogue - Thistlefoot by GennaRose Nethercott - 5 stars

Self-Published or Indie Publisher (Incomplete) - The Door into Sunset by Diane Duane - I own this whole series and did finish the last one as part of bingo, but alas did not get to it this year

Romantasy - A Power Unbound by Freya Marske - 5 stars

Dark Academia - Ordinary Monsters by J.M. Miro - 4 stars

Multi-POV - The Atlas Complex by Olivie Blake - 4.75 stars

Published in 2024 - The Forbidden Book by Sacha Lamb - 4.75 stars

Character with a Disability - The Adventure Zone: Suffering Game by The McElroys and Carey Pietsch - 5 stars

Published in the 1990s (Incomplete) - Trouble and Her Friends by Melissa Scott - I am 64% done with this book but it is Very Overdue so I think I'll have to return it and get it out again to finish it. Might reuse it for next year's bingo?

Orcs, Trolls, and Goblins - Oh My! (Incomplete) - Unnatural Magic by C.M. Waggoner - sad I didn't get to this one, I have it out from the library but it is also overdue, definitely want to get it out again.

Author of Color - The Devourers by Indra Das - 5 stars

Survival - System Collapse by Martha Wells - 4.5 stars

Judge a Book By Its Cover - The Edge by James Smythe - 4.5 stars

Set in a Small Town - The Undermining of Twyla and Frank by Megan Bannen - 4.5 stars

Five SFF Short Stories (Incomplete) - Burning Girls and Other Stories by Veronica Schanoes - changed to this last minute because the other option I had was taking forever to come in, and just never got to it

Eldritch Creatures - What Feasts at Night by T. Kingfisher - 3.75 stars

Reference Materials - Kinning by Nisi Shawl - 4.5 stars

Book Club or Readalong - To Shape a Dragon's Breath by Moniquill Blackgoose - 5 stars

[lendeah]

UNBOUND

Chapter 3: memories, premonitions

series masterlist

Summary: Neri continues to face the complexities of her combined spell, prompting her to once again seek assistance from Gale. In the process, her mentor opens up about the grim reality of his condition, revealing that their time together may be more constrained than Neri had anticipated.

Pairing: Gale x OFC!Reader

Tags: Slow Burn, Mentor/Protégé, but everything is healthy I promise, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soft Gale (Baldur's Gate), Gale Needs a Hug (Baldur's Gate), Professor Gale (Baldur's Gate)

Word count: 5.9k

AO3 LINK

Oof this one was long. Anyway, it's not proofread so it may contain mistakes! I will try to revise as soon as possible. Hope you enjoy :)

The darkness was all encompassing, the threads of magic tugging at her from every direction. The air was thick with bursts of energy, swirling and dancing around her like moths drawn to a flame. Her concentration remained fixed on one singular object in her mind, its form and power consuming her thoughts. She could feel its pull, its call to her own magical abilities. With determination and focus, she reached out and whispered the incantation, "Quaerere obiectum cum porta" as she gestured with her hands the different symbols.

As Neri opened her eyes, the room was silent. She could sense the powerful flow of her weave energy as it manifested in front of her. A dimensional door had materialized, pulsing with vibrant purple hues. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, Neri stepped forward and placed all her faith in this creation of hers. The feeling of being transported through dimensions was disorienting and nauseating, but soon enough she landed on solid ground once again.

She looked around at her new surroundings, taking in the empty tabern with its wooden furnishings and dimly lit lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The only source of noise came from a gnome bartender who was wiping down glasses behind the counter, and two other patrons - an orc and a human woman - sitting at opposite ends of the room. The three of them were looking at her with shocked expressions, their jaws dropped in disbelief.

"By Odin's beard, 'tis high time I lay off the ale," the orc muttered, breaking the silence.

Neri couldn't help but grimace. "My apologies," she said, feeling embarrassed. "It seems like I ended up in the wrong place."

After a small curtsy, she retreated back into the swirling portal and landed with a thump on her bedroom floor once more. Letting out a sigh, she began the process of closing yet another unsuccessful interdimensional door.

"Where was it this time? A Duke's mansion? The middle of the sea? The astral plane, maybe?"

Eiruk's voice interrupted her thoughts. Neri looked up to see him sitting on her bed, tossing the small planet-shaped crystal between his hands.

With a grunt, she brushed off her robes and grumbled "A tabern."

The boy's laughter resembled that of a hyena's as he responded,

"Wait, really?! That's hilarious. Maybe I should be trying this portal spell too. It would definitely make sneaking out much easier."

Eiruk's comment earned an eye roll from Neri as she took a seat on her bed next to him. She was still disappointed about their failed attempt at finding the crystal that he now held in his hand.

"It's not funny," she pouted. "I really thought I had it this time. Where were you, anyway?"

He simply shrugged. "I was holding it in my bedroom. I came to check when I felt the disturbance in the weave."

Neri rested her head on her hand, her gaze fixed on the ball in Eiruk's grasp. "I can't believe I can't even locate this object in the neighboring room," she muttered to herself. "How in the nine hells am I supposed to find three stones that could be hidden anywhere along the Crionthar?!"

He chuckled and tossed the crystal back to her. "Well, as much as I enjoy watching you fling yourself into different dimensions, I think it's time we take a breather."

She let out a frustrated groan. It was true, she had been searching for that cursed piece of crystal all over the academy for the entire day, simulating it was a Netherese stone, and trying to open a safe passage to it.

However, all her efforts had only resulted in opening gates nowhere near it. Hells, the doors hadn't even lead inside the tower.

"I can't stop now," she said, running a hand through her hair. "I need to make this work. I have to."

Eiruk looked up at her with concern in his eyes. "You've been obsessing over this for days now," he said softly, "why is it that important anyway? You have a whole year to finish the research."

No, I only have three months, she thought to herself, but instead Neri avoided Eiruk's gaze, feeling guilty for keeping the truth from him. She couldn't risk involving him in her family matters, especially when he was already dealing with so much helping with the recovery of the Academy and his own research project.

"It's... complicated," she finally said, not meeting his eyes.

Eiruk's expression turned understanding and he gave her a sympathetic smile. "I won't pry," he said softly. "But just know that I'm here for you if you ever need to talk."

Neri felt her heart clenching with guilt at his words. She mustered up a smile and responded, "Thank you for understanding."

He grinned, reaching for her hand. "I'll be there, no doubt about it," he said before smirking. "But don't think you can use emotional talks to get out of going to the city with me tonight."

She let out a frustrated groan. "I really can't..."

But Eiruk stood his ground. "Consider it my payment for helping you throughout the day," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Despite her efforts to resist, she couldn't help but chuckle at his determination.

"Okay, but we have to be back before the sun sets. And please don't try to charm any gnomes this time. I can't afford to get kicked out of another place."

Eiruk stood with a jump and extended a hand to her. "It's a deal," he said with a grin.

She took it and pulled herself off the bed, her muscles protesting from the day's exertion. She had been so focused on her magical training that she'd forgotten about the physical toll its continuous usage could take.

As Neri and Eiruk made their way through the halls of the academy, Neri couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and excitement at the thought of taking a break from her research. Eiruk's cheerful chatter about how they never did anything fun only added to her growing anticipation.

They soon reached Corlin's room and found him hunched over a pile of scrolls on his desk.

"Corlin!" Eiruk exclaimed, startling the blonde out of his concentration.

Corlin looked up with a raised eyebrow. "What is it? Did you get into another mess, Eiruk?" he asked, eyeing them both suspiciously.

"Ugh, always thinking the worst of me Cor! No, we're going out for some fun tonight," Eiruk said with a grin.

Corlin stared at her for a moment before breaking into a rare smile. "Did you agree to this, Neri?"

She nodded, smiling back at him. "I could use a break from all this research and magic," she said.

Corlin's smile widened. "Then count me in."

The trio made their way out of the academy sneaking into the bustling streets of Waterdeep. If Vanja knew of their whereabouts she would no doubt be pissed at them for not getting enough rest to be centered in their resposabilities, but she had never caught them before. As they made their way out of the academy and onto the bustling streets of Waterdeep, Neri couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. It had been so long since she'd been out for fun in the city, let alone at night.

Eiruk led the way, his footsteps light and confident as he weaved through the crowds. Corlin followed close behind, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings for any potential dangers.

Neri stuck close to her friends, taking in all the sights and sounds around them. The smell of sizzling street food filled her nostrils, and she could hear the lively chatter of merchants and patrons alike. Lanterns hung overhead, casting a warm glow over everything.

As they made their way deeper into the city and into the North Ward, Eiruk suddenly stopped in front of a tavern with a boisterous sign that read "The Grinning Lion."

"This is it!" Eiruk exclaimed, looking back at Neri and Corlin with a grin.

Corlin raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Are you sure this is where we want to spend our evening? Only boring young nobles frequent this place."

Eiruk scoffed. "Come on, Cor! Don't judge a book by its cover. The Grinning Lion is one of the most lively and entertaining places in all of Waterdeep."

"I'm not one for lively and entertaining," Corlin muttered, but he followed Eiruk and Neri inside nonetheless. The interior of the tavern was just as lively as its exterior. The air was thick with the smell of ale and sweat, and the sound of raucous laughter filled Neri's ears.

Eiruk led them to a table in the corner where they could see everything going on without being too conspicuous.

"Let's start with some drinks," Eiruk said, moving over to the bar to order.

As they waited for their drinks, Neri took a moment to observe Corlin. He looked brighter than usual, his blue eyes glittering with excitement. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of how much he had grown since they first met.

Back then, he was barely a teenager – all lanky limbs and a mess of golden locks covering his eyes. But now, as she watched him scan the room with a sense of wonder and curiosity, she saw a handsome young wizard, full of potential and promise.

"Hey, stop staring," Corlin said with a smirk as he caught her looking at him.

Neri rolled her eyes. "I can't help it. You are so grown up, Cor."

Corlin chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm not that different, Neri. Just a bit taller," he murmured.

"Oh, Corlin, you have no idea," Eiruk said as he placed three tankards of ale on the table. "You should see how much she used to mother you when we were growing up."

Neri glared at Eiruk playfully before taking a sip of her ale. It was bitter and strong, but she enjoyed the warmth it brought to her body. They laughed and clinked their mugs together, their drinks sloshing onto the wooden table. Everyone around them was caught in their own world of joy and laughter, it felt so liberating to be just one amongst the crowd, unnoticed and unburdened.

Eiruk was in full form tonight, delighting them with his amusing anecdotes and witty remarks. Corlin listened attentively, laughing heartily at Eiruk's recounting of an incident where he accidentally turned himself into a sheep during his first year at Blackstaff Academy. Neri watched them both, suddenly overcome with affection for the two who had become her family in all but blood.

Neri's laughter ceased abruptly as a sharp chill ricocheted down her spine. She spun around in her seat, scanning the bustling crowd until her eyes landed on a familiar face - her father's. Her heart pounded in her chest as their gazes locked, and she didn't know whether to run or stay frozen in place.

Panic set in, and she quickly turned back to Eiruk and Corlin.

"We have to go," Neri said urgently, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eiruk looked at her in confusion, clearly a little tipsy. "What's wrong?"

Neri didn't want to cause a scene, but she knew they needed to leave before it was too late. "My father is here," she said, her voice trembling.

Corlin's expression turned serious as he glanced around the room. "Shit. Don't worry, we can-"

But before he could finish his sentence, Neri's father had already made his way to their table.

Her father's tone was disapproving and frigid as he asked, "So this is how you choose to neglect your responsibilities?"

Neri felt a tight knot form in her stomach as she stood up to face him, Eiruk and Corlin following suit. She couldn't believe this was the first time he was adressing her in months.

"Father, I...I just wanted to have a night out with my friends," she tried to reason, but her father's stern expression didn't waver.

Arsten Thunderstaff glanced back and forth between her and her friends, a disapproving look on his face. "You have responsibilities to attend to, Neri," he scolded. "And it doesn't involve indulging in drinks and wasting your time with these...commoners. That's not why we allowed you to attend Blackstaff Academy."

Eiruk bristled at the insult while Corlin stepped forward, ready to defend Neri. But she placed a hand on his arm, silently pleading for them to not make the situation worse.

"Father, they're my friends," she said firmly. "And I don't see why I can't spend my free time with them."

Her father's gaze hardened once again, "

"Your leisure time should be devoted to preparing for your future role in our esteemed wizarding family, as that is more important than anything else. You are a valued member of one of the most respected families in all of Waterdeep, Neriyra," he reminded her sternly.

"I know that," Neri replied through gritted teeth, struggling to keep her composure, "you remind me of it every damned day."

"Then start acting like it," Arsten said firmly before turning on his heel and walking away.

Neri stood frozen, watching her father getting out of the busy tavern. She took a deep breath, trying to push down the anger and frustration that was bubbling inside her.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly to her friends, feeling guilty for ruining their night out.

Eiruk put a comforting hand on her shoulder, while Corlin spoke up in indignation.

"He has no right to speak to you like that. Or us, for that matter."

Neri forced a smile at her friends, grateful for their support. "It's alright," she said, though it was anything but. "Let's just...finish our drinks and go."

Eiruk and Corlin both nodded, worry evident on their faces. As they left the tavern and made their way through the crowded streets of Waterdeep, Neri couldn't help but feel the weight of her father's words bearing down on her. Eventually, they reached the entrance to Blackstaff tower and Neri let out a sigh of relief. The familiar stone walls provided some comfort amidst the chaos of the night; this was her true home, after all.

"I need to take care of some business before going back. You'll be alright now?" Eiruk asked, still clearly worried.

"I'll be fine," Neri reassured him with a small smile. "Thank you for coming tonight. It was fun."

"Yeah, we should repeat soon," Eiruk replied with a small smile before heading off towards the dark hallways.

Corlin lingered at Neri's side, his gaze filled with concern. "I will walk you to your bedroom," he said softly.

Neri nodded gratefully, leaning on her friend for support as they made their way through the familiar corridors of Blackstaff tower. She couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment and anger that still lingered from her encounter with her father.

Corlin hesitated before speaking up again.

"You know, Neri, I never understood why your father is so hard on you," he said softly as they walked through the quiet hallways of Blackstaff tower.

Neri sighed, her thoughts still consumed by her argument with Arsten. "It's just how he is," she replied with a shrug.

"But it's not fair. You have more magical talent in your pinky finger than most wizards have in their entire body," Corlin insisted, his frustration evident in his voice.

Neri smiled weakly at her friend's words. Corlin was always quick to defend her and boost her confidence when she needed it most. "Thank you, Corlin," she said sincerely. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything to her in that moment. She had always felt like an outcast among her own family, but Corlin and Eiruk had never made her feel that way.

His voice trembled as they reached Neri's room. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, and finally whispered, "You know," he started, unable to meet her gaze, "you don't have to face this alone. I... we'll always be here for you."

His words brought a lump to Neri's throat. She nodded mutely, finding herself momentarily overwhelmed with emotion.

The younger boy took a step and grabbed her into his arms, and she took the moment to hug him tightly. He felt warm and solid, a rock she could grab into, even on the darkest moments. Neri closed her eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of wood smoke, lavender, and the earthy smell of books, a comforting aroma that enveloped her like an embrace.

Eventually, they pulled away from each other and Neri gave Corlin a small smile. "I think I'm going to turn in for the night."

Corlin nodded understandingly. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day."

Neri gave him a grateful nod before entering her room and closing the door behind her.

The next evening, Neri found herself once again entering Gale's studio with a stack of scrolls perched precariously on her arms. Despite her determination to figure out the combination spell on her own, she couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat as she approached her mentor.

"I'm sorry," she began, interrupting Gale's work yet again. "I know I am interrupting over and over, but I can't seem to find the right way to locate the object while also evaluating the surroundings to create a successful gate. I don't know what else to do." She let out a frustrated sigh as she dropped all her belongings gingerly on a nearby table.

"My dear Neri, you are like a reflection of myself. Yes, as a young man I too thirsted for knowledge like a parched wanderer in the desert." He said wistfully from somewhere inside the room.

Neri let out a small chuckle at Gale's dramatic statement. She scanned the place looking for her mentor. "Why do you speak as if you were fifty? You are still young!"

"I have spent many years studying and honing my magical abilities, giving me a unique perspective on life," Gale replied as he emerged from behind a pile of papers.

Neri grinned, and then was taken aback by the sight of him looking... revitalized. His skin had some color back, and he appeared refreshed with clean clothes and hair falling in soft waves around his face and shoulders. She felt her cheeks flush slightly at the sight of him.

"You look much better." She blurted. What? Why did she say that?

Gale chuckled, running a hand through his now clean hair, and looked to be blushing a little. "I have been known to clean up nicely when I put my mind to it. A good night's rest or two also does wonders," his eyes posed on her, "you look like you need it yourself."

A rosy flush spread across Neri's cheeks as Gale's words hit her, but she made a conscious effort to keep looking directly into his eyes. Despite the awkwardness, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that the wizard seemed to be doing better.

Clearing her throat, she gestured towards the scrolls on the table, "Well, the lack of sleep means I have been able to dig on the combination spell, and as I said, I'm still struggling with it and was hoping you could offer some insights. Do you think it could be the incantation causing issues? Or perhaps my mental state isn't properly centered?"

Gale smiled, gesturing for Neri to sit down at the soft orange sofa with him. "Let's take a look at what you have so far."

Neri quickly made her way next to the wizard and spread out her scrolls and notes in front of them. Gale studied them intently, muttering under his breath every now and then. After a few minutes, he leaned back with a thoughtful expression.

"I think I can see where you are struggling," he said. "You are on the right track with the combination spell, but I think you may be overcomplicating it."

Neri furrowed her brows, "What do you mean?"

Gale went on, "To successfully find and create a dimensional door, precision and focus are crucial. But attempting to combine it with another spell, like location, is splitting that concentration. Perhaps the solution is to view it as one cohesive conjuration instead of two separate ones."

"That's a great suggestion," she said eagerly. "But how would I go about approaching it as one conjuration instead of two?"

Gale smiled, "Think of it like this - when you combine ingredients to make a potion, you don't mix them separately and then pour them together. You add them all at once and let them blend into one cohesive mixture."

Neri nodded, "So I just need to find a way to seamlessly merge the two spells together during the incantation instead of focusing so much on them independently?"

"Exactly," Gale confirmed. "It may take some trial and error, but I believe that is the key to successfully casting this combination spell."

"I see..." Neri thought to herself, taking a moment to process Gale's words. "But why don't you do it yourself then? It seems like you could do it much faster and easier than I am."

He seemed lost in thought for a moment before finally meeting her gaze with a small smile.

"I am afraid my condition makes me too frail to conjure any complex spells."

Neri could sense a hint of sadness in his voice and she immediately regretted her words. She wanted to ask him more about the condition, but she barely knew him, and felt like it might come off as a little intruding.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I just worry that it will take too much time for me to perfect it on my own. We are running out of time, after all..." She sighed sadly. It's not that she thought she lacked the skills; but mastering it would probably require several months of learning and practicing. And that wasn't even counting the time it would take to find the stones.

After pondering for a few seconds, Gale spoke up again. "You are right. Perhaps we could utilize my limited weaving abilities to guide you through the process?"

Neri's eyes widened with excitement.

"You mean we can combine both our spells into one? I never even thought that was a possibility."

Gale nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I could cast the locate spell and guide you through opening the dimensional door.

It would require us to channel the weave together and meld ourselves into one cohesive force, but I believe it would be a more feasible task than attempting it alone."

The thought of merging her consciousness with Gale's was both thrilling and terrifying. It was a level of intimacy Neri had never dared to try before, not even with her closest friends. She pictured their minds intertwining, their thoughts and emotions blending into one swirling confluence of energy. It was a daunting prospect, but if it meant the success of their mission, she would do it.

She nodded resolutely at Gale, offering him a small smile. "I'm willing to try."

His eyes also held a spark of excitement. "Very well. You must know, it will not be an easy task, but I believe in us. We are both outstanding wizards, after all."

Neri laughed softly as he stood and reached out a hand to help her up from her seat. Together, they walked towards the center of the room where there was enough space for their spell. They sat opposite each other, palms pressed together, and concentrated on channeling their magic. Neri could sense Gale's energy merging with hers, bringing a comforting warmth and renewed vigor. Sharing the same Weave was an intimate act, almost like a gentle whisper or tender touch.

The air around them began to hum, and Neri could feel a warm tingling sensation coursing through her veins.

"Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao," Gale chanted softly, his voice blending harmoniously with Neri's. She felt a surge of power within her at the sound of the words, and then her own sense of self fading away as she became one with Gale's consciousness. She could sense him: concentration, relaxation and... pain. So deep she almost faltered. He kept it so well hidden behind his humor, his verbosity and his infectious enthusiasm, it was hard to believe it was there. Gale's pain was a cold, dark undercurrent that Neri could tell it was a deeply rooted issue, likely tied to his condition.

"Now, let's try to combine the location spell with the dimensional door spell," he whispered through the connection they now shared with a mix of effort and exhilaration. "Keep breathing. Keep flowing."

As Gale and Neri stood facing each other, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could feel his magic humming in the air, creating a slight pressure in the back of her head. While her magic felt consuming but messy, his felt small yet precise. With Gale's steady guidance, she followed the trace of his location enchantment until she found the perfect point to open the gate between their worlds. Neri focused all her energy on that spot, channeling it into a stable connection and muttering the words for the door spell. As she did so, she could feel the power of their combined weave intensify, creating a tingling sensation throughout her body. Suddenly, a bright light burst forth from the spot they had been focusing on, growing larger and brighter until it formed into a shimmering portal before them.

"We did it!" Neri exclaimed in amazement as she opened her eyes. When she turned, Gale was looking at her with a soft smile. She could feel the warmth in his gaze, and it brought a sense of comfort and belonging to her. With their magic still intertwined through the Weave, Neri could sense his genuine pride in what they had just accomplished together.

But just a moment later, the portal made a loud sizzling noise and closed with a sharp pop. She felt her spirits deflate as their efforts seemed to have been in vain. Gale, on the other hand, couldn't help but laugh at her disappointment.

"Ah, don’t be so downtrodden about the situation. It was amazing for our first try!", he sat up and began to stretch, “You are really quite excellent at learning things quickly, you know that?”

A warm feeling spread through Neri's chest, and she couldn't help but smile at Gale's praise.

"Really?" she asked timidly.

“Absolutely!” Gale beamed at her,

“You have a natural talent for grasping the intricacies of magic that I still struggle with, despite my years of experience. Trust me, it's not easy to adjust one's own spell casting to match that of another wizard."

She didn't need words to understand the authenticity in his message; their bond gave her all the confirmation she required. A pleasant sensation radiated from Neri's core, and she couldn't help but break into a smile upon hearing Gale's compliment. "I appreciate that," she replied with gratitude.

Gale chuckled and ruffled her hair gently. "Now come on, let's take a break and grab some dinner. We can resume our practice once we've filled our bellies."

"What? But we barely started practicing," she protested.

"We did, but I can sense your stomach grumbling, and I think it's telling us that lunch is more essential than magic training right now. Plus, we need to fuel up before we dive back into magic. For what good is a magic practice without nourishment to power it? It is like trying to start a fire without kindling, futile and fruitless." he added.

"I- I couldn't possibly accept Mast- Gale. I would not want to impose on you."

"Nonsense, my dear. Nurturing your mind and body is not an imposition but a crucial part of our journey towards mastery. Besides, I owe it to you for helping me clean this room the other day." he adds with a cheeky grin "And I might add, I am an outstanding cook, for that matter."

She is about to refuse again, but her stomach chooses that moment to grumble loudly. Traitor.

Gale just laughed and pulled her up from the floor.

"I'll take that as a yes. Now let's go fetch some food before my apprentice starves to death."

Neri couldn't help but roll her eyes at Gale's dramatic flair. "Fine, but only this once," she relented.

"Excellent, then it's decided," Gale said with a wide grin. He glanced at Neri, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Prepare yourself for a feast."

Neri quirked an eyebrow, trying to hold back a smile. She doubted of his cooking skills after seeing the mess of his office the previous day, "I'll believe it when I see it."

As they strolled together towards the kitchen, Neri couldn't help but feel a newfound bond between them. The magic they shared had brought them closer in an unexpected way. Even with her previous Master, who was also around the same age as Gale, she had never felt this way. With Gale, it felt more like a genuine friendship, where he saw her as an equal rather than just a student. But then again, maybe it was just the effects of the Weave connection.

Once they reached the first floor, Gale moved confidently toward the kitchens, leaving Neri to follow in his wake. He slipped an apron over his wizard tunic, tying it at the back with ease. It was clear he'd done this before. Neri observed him as he worked, transfixed by the way he moved around the kitchen – so different from the erratic energy he possessed during magic practice.

"Sit," he ordered gently, pointing to a wooden stool on the other side of the counter. "And prepare your palate for my immaculate Hundur sauce."

Neri obeyed, surprised by Gale's assertiveness in this setting. As he started chopping vegetables, Neri couldn't resist asking, "How are you such a good cook?"

"Master Dekarios had a lot of free time while he was alone in his tower." Tara said as she appeared behind Neri, her fluffy tail wagging slowly.

Gale coughed akwardly "Well, it was more of a necessity, and in the beginning, I was terrible at it. But with practice and some helpful tips from my mother, I managed to become somewhat good."

Tara meowed loudly, seemingly agreeing with Gale's statement. Neri watched as Gale effortlessly cooked up a storm, adding spices and herbs to the dishes with practiced precision. The aroma that filled the kitchen made her mouth water.

As they waited for the food to finish cooking, Tara hopped onto Neri's lap and curled up into a ball. Neri stroked the soft fur gently and felt herself relax in the cozy atmosphere of the kitchen.

"Why you were alone for so long here?" Tara

lifted her head and meowed softly."Sorry, I mean, you and Tara."

He let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose I should come clean. You'll find out eventually anyway."

He turned away from the stove and leaned against the counter, facing Neri with a serious expression. "This affliction of mine...well, I wasn't exactly forthright about it before. It's a rather long and complicated story," he began slowly."I was what one might call a wizard prodigy, and from an early age could not only control the Weave but compose it, much like a musician or a poet. Such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself the lady of mysteries."

"Mystra." she whispered.

Gale nodded, his expression a mix of sadness and nostalgia. "Indeed. She became my teacher, my muse, and eventually my lover."

Neri's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, I was aware were Mystra's chosen, but you were her lover too?"

"Oh yes we enjoyed each other's company

body mind and soul. But even so I desired more." he explained "You see, no matter how powerful a wizard we mortals can become, we never scratch more than the surface of the Weave. Mystra keeps us in check. There are boundaries she doesn't let us cross. Yet every time I was with her, I stood on the precipice, gazing into the wonders that lay beyond. I sought to cross her boundaries,"

He let out a trembling exhale, resting both hands on the countertop in front of her.

"Gods Gale... what did you do?"

Gale's gaze dropped to the counter, his hands still gripping the edge.

"I...I tried to convince her. But she only told me to be contempted." He looked up at Neri again, pain and regret evident in his eyes. "Can you believe it? I was sharing a bed with a goddess and I seeked to prove myself to her."

Neri reached out and took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. She felt it tremble slightly.

Gale took a deep breath before continuing. "I found a Netherese tome with a fractured piece of the Weave. I thought, what if

after all this time I could return this lost part of herself to my goddess?"

Neri listened intently. She could only imagine the weight and responsibility he must have felt, being chosen by the goddess of magic and yet still never feeling enough for her, deserving of her.

"What was the answer to your question?" she asked softly.

"I obtained the fabled book and took it

into my study" Gale paused, his voice filled with remorse, "as for what happened next..." he took a step in her direction, grabbing her hand and placing it over his chest, "let me show you."

Neri looked at Gale in confusion, but did as he asked. She placed her hand over his heart and, a faint glow coming from it. She moved closer and was able to see the intricate lines that etched from his chest to his cheek, almost like a permanent tattoo. And then, she felt a pull, followed by the deepest darkest pain she had ever experienced. It was as if she had been thrust into the depths of an endless abyss. She screamed as she felt her soul being ripped apart and scattered to the winds.

Neri's mind was filled with images and memories that weren't her own. She saw Gale standing in his study, holding the Netherese tome in his hands. She felt his desperation, his need to prove himself to Mystra.

But as he began to open the book, a dark presence emerged from within it, engulfing him in its powerful grip. Neri watched in horror as Gale's body twisted and contorted under its influence.

And then, with a deafening roar, the darkness burst forth from Gale's body and consumed him completely.

Neri was pulled out of his mind and back into her own body, gasping for air. She looked up at Gale with wide eyes, tears streaming down her face.

"How...how in the nine hells are you still alive?" she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and awe.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers, his big eyes filled with sorrow.

"Neri, I am dying."

taglist: @cookydildorecs

[zelbits]

Excuse me

Do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior Alduin, Bane of Kings, Ancient Shadow Unbound, World-Eater, and First-Born?

Bonus: We've been trying to reach you about your car's extended warranty--

Bonus bonus:

Local orc hunter defeated himself and an elk, forgot about it, and became confused

[droids-in-disguise]

2 10 19 🧡 hi btw!!!!! been a while. big hugs

Hi!!! <3 <3 <3

2. Did you re-read anything? What?

I did 7 re-reads this year: Kiss Her Once for Me, The Hunger Games, Red, White, and Royal Blue, Catching Fire, Mockingjay, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, and Dracula.

10. What was your favorite new release of the year?

So many! My favorites were probably Hijab Butch Blues (a memoir), In the Lives of Puppets (sci-fi/dystopian pinocchio retelling), A Power Unbound (book three in a historical fantasy queer romance trilogy), and Bookshops & Bonedust (cozy fantasy prequel to Legends & Lattes, I love Viv my sapphic orc icon).

19. Did you use your library?

Yes, I used my library, especially the Libby app, and I participated in the summer reading bingo program. According to my spreadsheet, 22 of the books I read this year were originally through the library.

[legacyoftheogres]

13. The Envelope

[set longer into Izura and Thalanthe's relationship]

                The small flat was a bit dated, but it had many amenities. It was more than fitting for hosting a boyar such as Thalanthe. It was gracious of the Pantherine house to allow her to stay in it whenever she traveled to Durong for work, though, she supposed most of the work she did here benefitted them. A draft from the window eased some of the stifling heat of the city but could not provide much more aid. Kuotay’s heat was lessened by the sea wind, but Durong, at its center, often felt stagnant. Thalanthe had changed out of her ceremonial garb and wore a simple kimono that she had tied up the sleeves on.

Thalanthe eyed the sitting table in the main room, the two cups sat waiting and undisturbed. Perhaps not tonight, then. A low whistle came from the balcony, she turned, it was rare of Izura to alert her. When she saw him, though, she realized why. He was caked in dried blood.

“Not mine.” He answered before she could ask.

“Go wash up, and don’t make a mess.” She chided, hiding the relief in her voice.

“Good evening to you too, Thalanthe.” Izura chuckled, crossing the threshold and walking with silent steps toward the washroom.

Thalanthe finished the simple meal she had been preparing, it was far too hot to cook anything too involved, and brought it to the table along with a bottle of sake. Izura joined her a few minutes later, his long hair damp and unbound, and notably lacking his shirt, as it was hung up to dry. He sat down at the table and poured the sake.

“Thank you for the food.”

“It’s nothing special.”

“True, but most nobles don’t know how to cook at all.” Izura took a long draft of his drink and sighed, easing his posture and finally relaxing.

“Most of them were nobles for their entire lives. I was not.” Thalanthe replied simply.

“Where did you learn to cook, then?”

“I cooked for my family, when we lived in Illumaten. My parents were often away late because of their work. It was a skill I was glad to have when I made the voyage here from Quatansk all those years ago.” It felt like a long time, a few more decades and she would have lived on Materia longer than she had ever lived on Marza. She wondered if she would ever return.

“What was Illumaten like?” Izura asked, refilling her cup. Thalanthe raised a brow. Izura often asked her questions about her past, long ago she’d just thought him nosy, but she had since realized that with no memories of his own, he seemed to enjoy hearing about the memories of hers. Her eyes traced the myriads of scars that lined his torso, some were new, most weren’t. He did not know how he had gotten them; he did not even know his own age or original name. She often wondered who he had been before he turned up in the Needle, she wondered if he wanted to know. He certainly threw himself into the work for his clan wholeheartedly. Perhaps what was unknown was best left in the past.

“Illumaten wasn’t too different from Kuotay, it was lush and green, rolling hills terraced with rice paddies. It was often quiet, even though we were at war.” She continued, and Izura drank in the description in quiet contemplation. What he didn’t tell her was that he had seen such a place in his trances. A place not of his memories, but of hers. 

“And its people?” He asked.

 “It was… filled with elves, orcs, and all the mixes between. Far less diverse than here.” Sometimes it stung to remember what it was like to be among her own people, she wondered how they fared.

“Were there elves like me there?” It was the first time he had ever asked such a thing; it gave her pause. Finally, she shook her head.

“I have never seen an elf like you. Neither on Materia nor Marza.” She replied quietly. It was something she had wondered about, too. Where could he have come from? Surely someone out there knew. Izura nodded, seeming unsurprised. He seemed to let his thoughts wander, before suddenly remembering something. He crossed the room and pulled a small scroll from his bag.

“A gift. I wasn’t able to find all the information you were after, but this will be a start. Do promise to be judicious with how you use it.” He handed it to her.

“When am I not?” Thalanthe scoffed, placing it on the table.

“A thank you would suffice; it wasn’t easy to get my hands on that.”

“I have something better than thanks.” From her pocket, Thalanthe extracted a small black envelope. “The names you asked for. The nobles who were far too interested in what Pantherine pulled from the bay.” Izura’s eyes darkened as he saw the envelope, his brows furrowing slightly. She handed it over, the little envelope felt heavy in her hands, she knew what happened to many of the names Izura received.

 Much of what they did together would have been frowned upon by both of their clans, and they kept many secrets. Yet, these exchanges had been a great help to both clans in the past years. It was a dangerous game they played.

[rlinarts]

 Two arts of Umhra, the main character of Paladin Unbound by @jeffspeight (being published by @LiteraryWander in 2021)

[playstationall]

Upcoming Indie Games in July

Upcoming Indie Games in July

Check out a list of upcoming Indie games for the month of July. Make sure to let me know which games you might pick up or if there are any others games out there on your list. Thanks for watching and don’t forget to like & subscribe. Also, if you enjoy any of the games go wishlist it on their Steam page. Links below. Boomerang X by developer Dang! Boomerang X Steam page Black Skylands – by…

[tiredlostwriter]

On getting kidnapped by your childhood monsters and growing up with them

Elwing hated the feanorians. They were the very monsters of her childhood's stories, greedy and traitors to their own kind. And for this reason, as a lot of parents tend to do when they warn their children of the monsters who might be hiding under their beds, she told her sons about the feanorians and their fiery hearts, about their bloody hands and the cruel legends of old of cities covered in ashes. 

But sometimes stories stay just that, stories, meant to scare the youngest in the warm summer evenings and letting them know how safe they are hidden his their parent's arms.

The story of the seven sons of Feanor had no such moral, it came with a warning and the acrid taste of smoke.

And so, the day the feanorians layed waste on their city, the monsters on the handwritten pages of their children books took life, and in mere hours, blood was flowing in the streets, red ink for this last chapter of peace in the twin's life.

And when the door of their small house by the sea slammed open, letting in a stranger carrying two identical swords dipped in red, and with eyes so bright they seemed to glow in the dim evening night, they froze.

It was a new kind of fear they learned then, hearing their mother cry out, a sound so shrill it was barely human. She clutched her necklace with wide eyes backing towards the window and, to the sounds of the frantic beatings of their hearts, pulsing so loudly in their ears it felt like drumming, she went through it.

Then, at least, the stranger turned back to them, his burning eyes wide and lost. And still the twins didn't dare to move.

There was little they understood other than the terrifying certitude that their mom was gone, she had left them and the screams outside had abided.

They were utterly alone if not for the looming figure, still standing in the doorframe.

"Kanno", the name came from outside in a harsh scream and made the stranger turn his head, his hair coming unbound by the mouvement and spilling on his armour like black ink.

Elros noticed first the blood trickling from the unbound braid and falling on the flooring in fat sluggish drops. But before he could share the information with his brother, a second stranger entered their home.

And with him came the tears, for they couldn't ignore anymore the certitude that had started to build in them. No elda other than the dreaded eldest son of Feanor stood so tall nor bore unruly red hair and a single left hand.

And they understood also who the first of the stranger was when he leaned against Maedhros Feanorion upon his entry into the room, as themselves leaned against each other in wariness.

They were alone, they were crying, and the bloodied twin swords now hidden in their owner's scabbard seemed like a cruel foresight.

As they gripped each other's hand thighly and fought against the shacking wracking their whole frames, the feared brothers before them lauched into a heated discussion in a language they couldn't comprehend.

Later they were collected by guards and thrown on horses, they tried hard to fight them, scratching and biting, but Feanor's eldest turned toward them and rasped out, cold as ice and as biting :

"It's us or the orcs, elflings, choose wisely", and it wasn't for the fear of orcs that the twins relented, but because they didn't wanted to discover the kind of punishment the twisted minds their mother had described could come up with.

Months passed in ever cold Himring, and to the twin's surprise, no horrible punishment had befallen them yet.

They had their own room and beds, were fed, and never did the lords who first brought them here laid their hands on them. At first they didn't saw much of them, but one day Maglor came into the room they seemingly dedicated to their education, mainly dispensed by Erestor, who although strict was always kind to them, and started the slow process of teaching them the intricacies of his songs. Later, it was a stern Maedhros who joined their daily classes when he took on himself their teaching of politics and laws as it is fit for princes to receive.

And like this, they fell into a routine of gentle teachings and patient words. Soon their shaking stopped around them, and the tears dried, even the too bright eyes of the brothers didn't scared them as much as they once did and slowly became a welcome sight in the dark stone corridors of the fortress.

Long was passed the terror of the first weeks during which they sough every hiding spots of the grim fort and learned in their panic the rythms of the footsteps of every one of its inhabitants, eager as they were to huddle to the relative safety of the space under their beds in the occasions in which they recognised the brisk pace of Maedhros's long strides, or the nearly silent whisper of Maglor's footfall on the wooden floors.

And slowly, after acceptance came affection, for the stories told by their mother were erasing into the colorful blurry of their early youth, and replaced by Maglor's lulling voice when he sang them to sleep or the reassuring presence of Maedhros in a room nearby protecting them from the shadows at night.

It's an insidious thing this affection, it's Elros inadvertently falling asleep on Maedhros' shoulder after a particularly hard sparring lesson, soon after he allowed them to try steel training swords, it's Elrond watching Maglor in wonder as he sings an injured soldier back to health.

And so, the monsters of the stories slowly became the ones protecting them from the much more real horrors of life in this time, and before they knew it, they were the ones conjured first in their mind at the mention of family, much before a distant father they had long forgotten and a mother who left them screaming with the shadow of death looming over them.

And centuries later when someone will ask Elrond about Maedhros and Maglor he won't be able to answer because fathers seems a shallow word meant for a man he didn't knew and caretakers is too small a word for what they were.

They loved them and feared them and hated them at times, and yet they were their children, feanorians themselves after such a long time in their company.

Crafters and politicians, and even when the world denied them this legacy, casting it as shameful and bloodied, never did they forgot and always they claimed it in the quiet ways the eldest sons of Feanor had shaped them by their teachings.

And so Elrond still remembers the healing lessons he took with Himring's gruff healer and the songs of Maglor taught him in the evenings to mend broken spirit as well as wounded flesh.

And so Elros until he at last relinquished the shining numenorean throne, always remembered the rasping of Maedhros' voice and the feeling of his hand on his shoulder guiding him for each political decision he took long after his owner found his death in the fiery chasm he casted himself in.

[uruuk]

WINDING TORCHLIGHT FLICKERS IN DETERMINED EYES, AMIDST THE RISING DEATH CHANT OF HIS CHILDREN. flames whipped from zealous hands, raising snarls ever exclamative. his children always have been, after all. stood within ranks, a quiet yet commanding presence amongst his legions of kin. watching in reflection and unprojected thought. THE NIGHT AFTER THIS WOULD BE THAT WHICH HE WOULD EXPECT THE RING'S ARRIVAL. though such emotion which has been stirred as of late has undoubtedly come to haunt him once again. as if the mere distance from sauron was igniting the flame he left behind. THE SURROUNDING LANDS OF CALEBRIMBOR'S CITY HOST TO ITS DESTRUCTION ON THIS NIGHT ABOVE ANY OTHER. AND HIS VICTORY IS ENSURED, ( OR MAY BE YET ), BY THE WOMAN LYING IN A WHEELED CAGE. far from the gilded ones to which she's so used. glittering prisons of the mind, and the ones of THE DECEIVER. that of her high-king, punishing her for her bravery. for that which she could never have hoped to control. A FATE HE KNOWS ALL TOO WELL. and consequences are a lasting reminder of where we failed.

AND UPON THE CHARGE HE WOULD PRESENT HER, to vicious spear tips. hold a knife to spill candied red blood upon pale collar. any and all threats given were far from empty. NO MATTER HOW MUCH HE MIGHT LONG FOR THE CONNECTION THEY SHARE. that of the specific sort of manipulation that they both experienced. that which nobody else might ever hope to understand. THE WAY THEIR WORLDS ARE FOREVER CHANGED, BECAUSE OF IT. forever dull, and forever tainted. would show as much haunting cruelty to her in defiance, as he may equally show haunting compassion.

OFTIMES ORC CHILDREN ARE BROUGHT TO HIM, TO BE SOOTHED, when the reason for their cries are indiscernible. a great joy, yet here the rise of the wail piques his ears and expels him from thought. a shame for them to be here, so young and frail. yet, it is for them that he does this. eyes brought towards the prize he'd secured.

HAIR FLICKERS IN THE ELVEN REALM'S BREEZE as it lifts in slow steps through hordes of uruk in descent towards her. PERHAPS ELVES MAY NEVER FIND SUCH CUSTOMS TO BE ACCEPTABLE, however, he hopes by the end she will see their kind in a different light. NOT THAT HE WEEPS FOR IT, NOR WOULD BEG. no true expectations. he loves them enough to compensate for every race, known or unknown, that dwells within these lands.

brunette strands are unbound entirely, lain along his cheeks that are lined with black roots. some that are thick as those of a tree, and some that are thin as veins pumping blood black as mairon's. HE PAUSES BEFORE HER. looking down with narrowed brows in the study of her fairness marred by dirt. silent, at first. THOUGH HER WORDS EVENTUALLY BRING A SMILE TO HIS LIPS. barely there in the warm glow of flames on pale cheeks, but earnest. I DO NOT FEAR THE DARKNESS. "no. i do not suppose that you would, heruni Altáriel." the smile is gone as soon as it comes. "perhaps i have sought you not for pliancy, but for something else entirely." teeth clench, with an audible breath from nostrils.

: ̗̀➛ *ೃ༄ IT IS NOT THE SCENT THAT DISTURBS HER ; not the deep and unrelenting stench of death and decay that stirs her from a feeble attempt at some kind of rest. galadriel's body will not allow her to find any inch of comfort within the cage she is kept inside, no matter the exhaustion that sweeps across her body her in broad and deeply painful stokes. it is is not the atmosphere of dread and the burning pyres beyond that make her blink into the darkness - it is the sound. somewhere in the gloom of the camp beyond a baby cries out. without warning  her heart strums quickly inside of her chest, unabashedly drawn to the hungry murmurs that transform into a high pitched shriek against the cool night air. inside of her chest an anger grows and builds without restraint - a frustration that batters at the already frayed edges of her mind.

the orc child cries out again, a painful wail against the armies that surround them before it is suddenly silenced - only the sound of the breeze from the river beating against the edges of the encampment.

she cannot rest. she will not - the palms of her hands reddened by the tight grip of her nails against them, the crescent moon imprints stinging at her flesh as her eyes open wider still, searching through the pitch until they fall upon the shape that works through the shadows toward her. he has always been there , perhaps @uruuk does not trust his children with such a task. perhaps he believes there is something to be gained from the silence that stills between them. 

❛  you will not find me more pliant because of the hour. ❜ dry lips part as she speaks, her voice hoarse - the filthy water she has been left to quench herself untouched and kicked to the edge of the cage. ❛  the night and i are old friends - she knows more of me than any other. i do not fear the darkness ... ❜

starter for @uruuk

[fandomblr]

T4T Kiliel Headcanons

Trans! Kili Headcanons

Kili knew he was trans during his early teens and came out to his family, all which were extremely supportive. He realized he was trans since AFAB dwarves often get read as male due to their facial hair, and found that he was so happy when people thought he was a boy, and then he realized he IS a boy!

Dís was extremely proud of him when he came out and made him his first binder. When he told her she shouted to the rooftops, “THANK DURIN, I HAVE TWO SONS NOW!!!”

Fili was OVERJOYED since he had always wanted a brother. He becomes extremely protective of him, and he and Thorin will fight anyone that is transphobic to him and misgenders or deadnames him.

Having a queer family member (Thorin) was extremely helpful since Thorin had an idea of what Kili was going through as a queer person himself (although he obviously can only understand so much as a gay cis man), so his uncle takes it upon himself to be the one to educate everyone on trans issues and on how it’s so important that everyone uses Kili’s correct name and pronouns.

Contrary to popular belief, he is not on testosterone and doesn’t want to go on it. AFAB dwarves already have higher levels of testosterone than non-dwarf AFAB people, so he can easily grow his facial hair and his voice is kind of androgynous, which he is okay with.

He’s non-dysphoric, so he doesn’t feel the need to medically transition at all, but everyone in his family and in Thorin and Co sees him as the man he is regardless.

He binds on certain occasions, and when he does he binds safely and never binds for more than 8 hours a day, and makes sure to not bind while he is in battle or doing any sort of strenuous physical activity that could hurt him while binding.

Again, Kili is non-dysphoric so he doesn’t want top surgery. He gets euphoria from how his chest looks like when he binds but he is okay with his unbound chest too. Besides, top surgery involves recovery time which he doesn’t have as he’s constantly fighting orcs and is on the move ever since the dwarves lost their home in Erebor.

He LOVES to pack. He doesn’t have bottom dysphoria but he gets euphoria from packing, which he does a lot. His prosthetic packers are made by other dwarves so they are incredibly realistic and let’s just say they do their job pretty well. He also likes his packers to be really creative and come in a bunch of funky colors and designs, and he prides himself in that since that’s something that cis men won’t ever get to experience

Al of his community and the dwarves around him are supportive of his gender, the only transphobia he could ever face would be from non-dwarves, but that rarely happens since Thorin and Fili have a reputation of stabbing people that are transphobic to Kili.

He’s very openly trans. He doesn’t want to go stealth and he proudly wears the colors of the trans flag whenever he can. Dís always makes sure to knit him trans pride stuff. He loves being trans and would never want to be cis.

His gender presentation is pretty masc, but he likes dressing in an androgynous way sometimes. Every once in a while he’ll also want to try the pretty boy aesthetic and paint his nails and wear makeup more feminine clothing such as dresses and skirts, but in his day to day he is mostly masculine.

There are definitely more trans and non-binary dwarves, but he doesn’t know them very well, since the ones that he knows of live in the Iron Hills with Dáin, so he’s only ever heard of them.

He passes pretty well when he binds, but like I said he doesn’t bind all the time since he’s constantly fighting orcs and doing strenuous physical activity. So he only passes when he binds, and that’s okay with him. He knows he doesn’t need to pass to be valid, and he always corrects people when they misgender him. He wishes he would get read as male more often even when he doesn’t bind though, but being misgendered doesn’t give him social dysphoria (although it is certainly annoying).

Kili is a straight trans man, he’s only into women, but there were not a lot of dwarf women around him besides Dís (his mom) when he was growing up so he never really got the chance to date until he met Tauriel.

Trans! Tauriel Headcanons

Unlike Kili, Tauriel didn’t realize she was trans until she was well into adulthood. Similarly to Kili, she realized she was trans when mortal men gendered her as female, and realized that being read as female felt so much better than being read as male. But even after she realized she was trans, she spent a long time trying to repress her transness.

All of that changed when she met Legolas and became his friend. Legolas is agender (they use any pronouns but don’t mind when people call use he/him for her), and he taught her that there was nothing wrong with who she is.

Tauriel had a rough childhood. Her parents were killed by orcs so she was on her own until she met Legolas, and Thranduil basically took her in as his adoptive daughter. That’s why Legolas says that he would forgive her if she came back after helping the dwarves.

Although Thranduil did not approve of her as a partner for Legolas, that does not mean he does not respect her. Having a trans kid himself, Thranduil knows how important it is to be a trans ally. He’s also very very gay for Bard, so like Thorin he has experience with the queer community and educates his subjects on trans and non-binary issues. He does not tolerate any transphobia towards her, and he banishes any elf that purposefully misgenders or deadnames her.

Also, Thranduil was DEFINITELY wrong about Legolas and Tauriel ever being a thing. They’re pretty much siblings in every sense of the word, and have never been romantically interested in each other. Plus, since Tauriel is kind of Thranduil’s adopted daughter, that would be incest so no thanks. That’s precisely why Thranduil was so against them as a couple.

At first she identified as non-binary, but as she kept talking with Legolas about gender she realized that she’s a binary trans woman.

Legolas was obviously the one that helped her with her transition since she knew what it was like to question their gender and explore gender presentation. They helped her get feminine clothes, tested out pronouns and names for her, got her breast forms, and talked to her about trans and non-binary issues.

AMAB elves are already pretty androgynous due to their long hair, so that was certainly an advantage to Tauriel’s transition. Sometimes people (especially mortals from Lake Town) had a hard time figuring out her gender before she transitioned, and now that she presents more femininely these mortals are even more confused about her gender, as she looks very androgynous. She doesn’t mind and sometimes finds it amusing when she confuses them, although she does wish she would get read as female more often.

While Kili is non-dysphoric, Tauriel is EXTREMELY dysphoric. Looking back at it, her dysphoria was always there even before she knew she was trans. She just thought that everyone felt like she did. But her dysphoria continued to get worse over the years, and once she realized she’s a woman it actually increased.

That’s why Tauriel had FFS, or facial feminization surgery, (since elves are skilled healers after all, so they would know all about gender affirming surgeries). She has also been on estrogen for about a 100 years. Her dysphoria is a lot better now because of it, but she still has some body and social dysphoria.

At the start of her transition she felt like she needed to be hyperfeminine and overcompensate for her transness. She felt like she was never “female enough” and since she came out later in life, a lot of elves around her would accidentally misgender her and that really hurt her since she has social dysphoria. That made her feel like she had “failed” at being a woman.

Legolas had to explain to her that she hadn’t “failed” at anything, and that other people’s perception of her does not define her. Still, he would ALWAYS correct people when they misgendered her, and anyone that is transphobic to her faces their wrath (and arrows!)

They also told her that she didn’t have to be hyperfeminine to be valid. After Legolas explained this, she became more comfortable not being hyperfeminine 24/7. That’s why her gender presentation today is very fluid. She can be very feminine in some days, dress more androgynously in others, and sometimes she can even present more masculinely.

Legolas has helped her voice train for hundreds of years, so she’s a master at it. That’s why her normal voice today is pretty high pitched and similar to a cis woman’s. However, she can still speak in a deep voice if she wants, and on certain occasions she will use it to surprise people, especially when she needs to startle and distract orcs and giant spiders.

She refuses to tuck even though she has bottom dysphoria. Legolas taught her how to tuck once but it was extremely uncomfortable for her so she never did it again. Besides, she’s not okay with the possible risks tucking can have.

She doesn’t know if she wants bottom surgery or not. It would help her dysphoria, but she’s afraid of how the recovery may go and what the results will look like. And again, surgeries include recovery time and she’s captain of the guard and there are a lot more orcs and spiders to fight than earlier when she had FFS. Although Thranduil and Legolas would 100% support her if she chose to have the surgery and would cover for her in her job, she still feels an obligation to Mirkwood and would not want to take that much time off. So she’s thinking about it. Which is fine, considering she’s an immortal and has all the time in the world.

Pretty much everyone in Mirkwood knows she’s trans since she came out later in life, so it’s nearly impossible for her to be stealth there. However, she does like to go stealth whenever she’s around people that only know her after her transition, and she goes stealth whenever she’s in Lake Town since she transitioned before the mortals there were even born.

Elves have a very accepting attitude towards trans, non-binary, and gender diverse people since most of them are already androgynous. That’s why Mirkwood has a vibrant queer, trans, and non-binary community, so she knows several other trans and non-binary people besides her and Legolas. She feels at home in her community.

Tauriel practically faces no transphobia in Mirkwood at all, considering how Thranduil would banish anyone that disrespected her and Legolas would most likely shoot arrows through them.

However, she has faced a lot of transphobia when she is around Lake Town. The mortals are not as enlightened as elves when it comes to gender stuff, and so many mortal men will purposefully misgender her or not trust her when she says she’s female. She used to get this a lot when she was at the beginning of her transition. She still gets transphobia every once in a while, but not as much now that she has transitioned.

Tauriel never had time for dating since she’s been very busy as captain of the guard. She doesn’t label her sexuality though, as she doesn’t really think about the gender of the people she would date if she wasn’t with Kili. That’s why she jokingly refers to herself as “Kilisexual.”

T4T Kiliel Couple Headcanons

They obviously immediately bonded over being trans, and seeing Tauriel as a visibly out trans woman meant the WORLD to Kili considering that she was the first trans person he’d ever met.

Tauriel actually made Kili have a sexuality crisis for a second, since she is very androgynous and he wasn’t 100% sure if she was indeed a woman. Of course, that other androgynous elf in Rivendell that he said “isn’t that bad” didn’t help this crisis either. But once he confirmed that Tauriel is female, the sexuality crisis was averted and he was sure once again that he is straight.

Tauriel used to hate being trans for a long time. She would envy a lot of her cis female elf friends and wish she could be cis too. She would often tell Legolas that she would give anything to be cis, so she could feel like a “real girl.” Legolas explained to her that that is internalized transphobia, but she couldn’t help how she felt. However, all of that changed when she met Kili.

Seeing Kili be so happy as an out and proud trans man made her realize that being trans isn’t just pain and suffering. She already knew that there are trans people that are happy being trans and loved that about themselves thanks to Legolas, but she couldn’t imagine ever being that way.

Kili helped her be proud as a trans woman, something that she had never felt before. He helped her realize that she is beautiful BECAUSE of her transness and not in spite of it. She had felt ashamed about being trans for so long, but that shame went away after she hung out with Kili during his imprisonment. He taught her that she IS a real girl, and that no one but her can tell her what her gender is.

He also helped her unlock gender euphoria. Tauriel’s trans experience had mostly revolved around her dysphoria, while Kili’s had revolved around his euphoria. One way he did that was by dancing and spinning her around so her skirts would soar in the air. This gives her so much euphoria, and it’s something Tauriel will never forget.

Tauriel teaches Kili how to voice train with the help of transmasc elves in her community so he can make his voice a little deeper since he’s not on testosterone. They voice train together!

Together they discover trans joy and trans love. For instance, she will compliment his packers and he will endlessly woo her about how she is so beautiful that she walks in starlight.

They go to pride together! They go to the pride parades in Erebor and Mirkwood, and when Bard starts the first Lake Town pride they go there too. They also go to the pride Bilbo and Thorin organize every year in the shire.

Thanks to Kili, Tauriel now wears her trans colors proudly. She only does that in Mirkwood, since like I already said she wants to go stealth when she’s outside of it. Kili respects that decision 100%. And Dís always knits her stuff with the trans flag as well.

They do their makeup and paint their nails together too! Tauriel will do his makeup and nails when he has his pretty boy days, and Kili loves to help her with hers when she presents femininely.

Although Kili doesn’t relate to Tauriel’s dysphoria since he doesn’t have it, he is always there for her when dysphoria gets her down. He reminds her of how beautiful she is and affirms her gender constantly. Tauriel also affirms his gender all the time.

Also, Kili never dies, PERIOD. No dying is allowed here. Thorin and Fili also don’t die either, and Bard takes limpë and becomes immortal because I ship Barduil and I make the rules.

Ultimately, they both have very different trans experiences. Kili is non-dysphoric, came out earlier in his life, didn’t know a lot of trans people, hasn’t faced a lot of transphobia, doesn’t want to go stealth, and is not transitioning medically, while Tauriel is dysphoric, came out later in life, has been in community with other trans people, has faced a lot of transphobia, goes stealth when she can, and has medically transitioned. However, they both respect each other’s trans journeys and acknowledge that even though they have different experiences, they are both still trans enough and 100% trans. Because transness isn’t a monolith, and there is no one way to be trans.

[dalliansss]

The Shadows Stretch and Sigh || @skaelds Chapter 1

He keeps his hair unbound and goes to his jewelry boxes, picking out many oxidized gold necklaces, arm bands, and a pair of onyx crystal earrings. Now these oxidized gold jewelry were clearly crafted by Gorthaur; no orc nor thrall would be capable of the inhumanly delicate and minute detailing that adorned all the pieces, and also nobody else in Angband was authorized to use the Eye as a motif. Not even Melkor used it.  A few times Gorthaur bites the air, to signify to Finrod that his picks are ill made. But ultimately he is content, and floods their bond with an onslaught of sudden pleasure. It makes Finrod’s knees wobble. He collapses onto the floor, trembling at the onslaught of the sensation. 

Part 6 of Blood in The Mouth

[mismaeve]

Long Live the Queen → Prologue

↳ Long Live the Queen, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, a prologue Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, war and death Word Count: ca. 600+ Tagging: @tharan-duil @sehnsuchts-trunken @i-did-not-mean-to @rye-nye A/N: This is just the prologue ( for a lack of a better word) to Long Live the Queen, which will be out shortly. I am excited to share this even though I wasn't going to publish anything until I had finished the entire story. But my recent absence convinced me otherwise. I hope you enjoy the prologue and part one of the story. Sources: Elven Wedding Ceremony

"By root and seed, by bud and stem. By leaf and flower and fruit, by life and love, In the name of the Seldarine, Gods of the Elven people, I, Rainiel, take thee, Thranduil, to my hand, heart, and my spirit, at the setting of the sun, and the rising of the stars. Nor shall death part us, for in the fullness of time, we shall be born again, at the same time, and in the same place as each other, and we shall meet and know and remember and love again."

The couple watched as the Elven priest unbound their hands before picking up the sapling, and giving it to them, to plant it at their home where it would grow and flourish much like their marriage. Such happiness this day promised, filled with hope and excitement. Rainiel glanced at her husband, her king, and dreamed of the long life they would live together, and she found herself grateful for their eternal youth for it meant that she’d never have to part with her beloved.

And we shall meet and know and remember and love again.

The night was dead and silent, not a whisper was being carried by the gentle and fleeting breeze. The skies were clear of any clouds that would hinder the light of the full moon spreading its rays over the dark-green fields bordering the deep and vast forest that was Mirkwood. Under the forever watchful eyes of the stars, the leaders of two separate armies were making their way towards the forefront of their forces. One was a female of slender build with hair as white as the first snows of winter, its loosely wavy length neatly tied and braided away from her delicate features; the other was a male of strong and muscular build, his light golden hair falling over his shoulders in a magnificent waterfall that stopped slightly above his waistline.

Thranduil, son of Oropher, the king of the Woodland realm mounted his elk, an extraordinary beast with antlers of great splendor, before facing his army of brave Elves, eager and honored to defend their homelands. Theriadis, the right hand of Sauron and the commander of all his armies, mounted a fierce black stallion who would take a bite out of anyone who dared step too close. Sitting atop their impressive beasts, the king and the commander cast their eyes over the soldiers standing in formation before them, moving from face to face in search of any weakness that would compromise their odds on the battlefield.

“The enemy is approaching, eager to soak these lands with our blood,” Thranduil spoke to his fellow elves, his voice almost as calm as the night that surrounded them.

“You will not rest until every inch of this ground is drenched in their blood,” Theriadis raised her voice, her black eyes darting from orc to orc, relishing the sight of the hatred she saw on their faces.

“But we will endure, as we always have. It is our duty to protect our borders, our home from the vile creatures that would see it burn,” the Elvenking continued, raising his voice slightly with each word that rolled over his lips.

“Ready your torches for tonight we burn their sacred forest to the ground, and the elvish scum along with it,” the commander’s voice rose above the enrapturing shrieks and howls of the orcs.

“And so, I have but one thing to say to you,” Thranduil’s voice grew louder still, taking on a more threatening and menacing tone, his hazel-blue eyes sparkling with contempt for the beasts that were looming just beyond their borders.

“Your orders tonight are quite simple,” the commander continued after the ranks of orcs had quieted down, awaiting their commands for the battle that would soon begin.

“Kill them all,” Theriadis and Thranduil said in unison. One of them was smirking while the other’s expression was stone cold.