#for some reason Tolkien's arms are giving me hell

[acreekinthenight]

trying to keep working on this wip since i can't write right now...

[angelicyouth]

Youth ; Chapter 3

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ warning: descriptions of a panic attack

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

A cacophony of voices fight to be heard over the other, everyone shit talking around the game of Mario Kart that’s currently set up in our living room. The boys and I watch as the four players duke it out on the big screen, witnesses to a friendship-breaking competition.

Loud stomping abruptly interrupts the taunts, “Y/N! What the hell? Is that my fucking shirt that you’re wearing?” My brother violently hollers from his spot, standing halfway down the stairs to peer down at the rest of us.

“The one you’ve been looking for all morning? Yup.” I lazily drawl from my spot on the couch, obnoxiously popping the “p” in my reply. My head slightly shifts as Tweek attempts to neatly braid my hair, Butters gently coaching him from the side.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? Made me waste a bunch of time looking for nothing.” Stan continues as he finishes his journey down the stairs.

“You act like you have better things to do, loser. No girlfriend, no job—nada. So I don’t see what the big deal is. Are you on your period or something?” An accidental sharp tug makes me wince, Tweek muttering apologies as he quickly kisses the top of my head in repentance for his mistake.

“Shut up! Quit stealing my shit!” He's standing off to the side of the couch now, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed.

I glare at Stan and say around a mouthful of orange chicken at the top of my lungs. “Quit stealing my weed then!”

”God, you’re such a fucking pothead!” He shouts, fists clenching in anger.

”Says the alcoholic who starts his day with a shot!” It’s a low blow but all I can see is red.

“Bro, quit being a whiny bitch. You’re not dirt poor like Kinny. Just buy a new one.” Said blonde flashes Cartman his middle finger so he rolls his eyes and attempts to correct himself. “What? Fine, at least you weren’t born ginger and a Jew like Kahl. Talk about a double whammy, I’d honestly kill myself.”

”You don’t need a reason to kill yourself, Cartman. Make all of us happy for once and just do it. If you really need a reason, just think about how fat you are and how much wasted space you take up.”

”Aye!”

The match concludes with Jimmy coming out on top and the boys deciding to abandon the game entirely. They resume eating the Chinese takeout that’s laid out on the coffee table in front of them and half-heartedly listen to the sibling’s routine bickering.

“Take it off.” He scoffs at me, face heated with anger. Tolkien rolls his eyes so hard that I’m surprised a headache doesn’t occur.

“Huh?”

“C’mon, Y/N. You’re stupid, not deaf. Want me to ask mom to get you hearing aids? I said: take. It. Off.” Comes out of my brother’s gritted teeth, each word growing more impatient and strained.

“Big deal, Stan! There’s so many other fucking shirts in this house. Feel free to get one from my closet if you need one so bad.” I retort in exasperation, clenching the denim on Tweeks legs that lay on either side of my body in frustration.

“Ack!” The frenzied blond yelps from behind me and I let go, fiddling with the creases on his jeans instead.

“No! Didn’t you hear me, r-tard? It’s mine, I bought it. Now, take it off!” Kyle closes his eyes at the elder Marsh’s words, tired beyond his years.

“Able to throw some money away for a dumb shirt but you can’t even pay me back my hundred dollars.” The local space enthusiast mumbles to himself, a chorus of ‘shut up, Craig!’ resounds from the boys in Team Stan.

“Fine!” I smirk and get off from my perch on the couch, a sly yet very bold idea pops up into my head. The perfect little thing to piss my dear older brother off. If you want petty, I’ll give you petty.

I grab my shirt from the hem and start to slowly lift it off of my frame, quirking a smug eyebrow and taunting my brother with a smile when more skin starts to show.

“Woohoo!” Kenny hollers excitedly at me, his hands in the air.

“F-f-fuck! No! Quit it, will you?! Don’t fucking do that!” Stan pushes those in his way aside and the boys make it hard for him on purpose by sticking out their legs to trip him. My brother scrambles over to me, forcing my hands down.

“Aw. What’s wrong, Stanley? You’re starting to sound a lot like Jimmy, how cute. I thought you wanted your stupid shirt?” I jeer at him. It’s like what Bebe always says: boys never know what they want and that’s the problem with them. Amen, sister.

“Ewww, Marsh. No one wants to see your underdeveloped body.” Craig socks Cartman on the arm, hard and the larger teen squeals like a dying pig.

“Don’t listen to them, sexy! Keep on going!” Clyde joins in laughing, sliding off his jacket and twirling it over his head in support of the apparent stripping going on.

“You’re voluptuous! Curvaceous! I’m already down on my knees at the sight of you, sweet thang!” Clyde continues to exaggeratedly hype me up, comically imitating the sound of a barking dog afterwards.

“I don’t know how you guys can take her seriously when her hair’s only halfway done. Looks like a damn hippie.” Cartman mumbles, more focused on inhaling his food and rubbing his now sore arm.

“Pffft, b-buh-baby Marsh gone w-wild!” Kung pao chicken accompanies Jimmy’s words of encouragement and he grabs one of his arm crutches, twirling it above his head too. My hands are still at the hem of my shirt, lifted up slightly and exposing a sliver of skin, even when my brother lets go.

I turn my head and catch Craig’s eyes trailing down as he smirks at me, his eyebrows lifted up playfully. A glint in his deep blues as he nonchalantly says, “I wouldn’t mind.”

While I’d normally giggle in amusement at the normally stoic teen and the contribution towards further riling my brother up, my face immediately flushes red after my talk with the girls at the party. I’d say that butterflies are invading my stomach, struggling to break free but it honestly feels like a whole damn zoo down there.

Feeling the adrenaline rush from my brother’s anger, the boys egging me on, and Craig’s attention, my heart beats at record breaking speed and I can feel my cheeks shyly heat up. This development doesn’t go by unnoticed as Kenny stops his playful cheering and laughing, watching the interaction between us two with furrowed brows.

“Fuck off, Tucker. Actually, fuck both of you all the way to hell.” My brother grumbles, angrily throwing himself onto an unoccupied space on the couch with his arms crossed. “It’s the fucking principle of things.”

“Big word, Stanley. Is that your word of the day? Did you learn it from this week’s episode of Sesame Street?” I mock him with a pout in fake sympathy.

“Shut the fuck up before I kick your fucking teeth in!” My brother’s stupid face goes red with anger.

He pouts when Kyle holds him back and rolls his eyes, ever the voice of reason. “They were just joking, Stan.”

“Yeah, Stanley. I was just joking.” My eyes continue to follow Craig as he lifts a bite of food towards his handsome face, wooden chopsticks pressed against his still smirking plush lips.

“Craig.” My brother says sharply this time, straightening up his back to glare at the teen over Cartman’s bigass head. I’m slightly confused as to what’s happening but still loving the attention Craig is giving me.

“Relax, Marsh.” Craig chuckles with a challenging look in his eyes. Tension begins to grow in the room and I’m lost because the other guys would normally laugh at suave shit like that and instigate a fight.

I roll my eyes and figure that it’s just them being overly protective, going back to my spot in between the cute coffee addict’s legs so that he can finish his attempt at doing my hair. Butters has a small braid done in between tufts of silky blonde from when I demonstrated the process to Tweek. He rubs his knuckles together, nervous energy exuding from his body as I return next to him.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The girls excitedly informed me of tryouts and the process, which involves practice with the already established team and the new potential recruits. A week and a half is given to learn a few cheers before the day they hold the official tryouts, which was today. It’s here where I finally meet Nichole Daniels, Tolkien’s girlfriend. It would’ve been nice if he brought her over from time to time but I can understand his vehement refusal of bringing her anywhere near a number of dumb boys. Trouble seems to follow the guys wherever they go.

As promised to the parentals, I attended and it’s not as bad as I thought it would be with the friends I’ve already made being here. I’ve never had problems with dancing as it comes easy to me so it’s nice to just hang out and bask in the feminine energy.

My parent’s request has continued to go under the radar as the boys have been busy with the football season starting. Their practice allows me to not have to think of an excuse for staying out late since they’re already busy, extracurricular activities taking up their time after school as they prepare for the season.

I shove the heavy front doors of the school open, the sun almost fully set as a gradient of red, yellow, and orange bathe me in their hues. The girls always remember to offer me a ride home from their parents but I always politely reject, my guilt not allowing any of them to go out of their way and use their gas on me.

My hands are shoved into my pockets, trying to accumulate as much heat as possible while I begin the journey home. Wisps of fleeting, misty clouds escape from my mouth after each puff of breath I let out and I watch them disappear. I bask in the rare moment of solitude and the quiet that comes with it.

I’m colder than I normally would be tonight because a freshman accidentally spilled her gatorade onto the duffel bag that I’ve been using for cheer. Not only were the sweats that I usually throw on over my shorts drenched in sticky sweetness, but the clothes I wore to school earlier were also an unlucky casualty to the liquid electrolytes.

I wonder if I’ll make the cheer team, I ponder to myself.

The rhythmic sound of my steps on the concrete sidewalk accompany me on my walk and I hum to myself until I hear sharp, rambunctious laughter. I’m startled as my head shoots up and see that across from me in the distance are a group of boisterous, older teens. Fear resounds within me when I faintly remember them terrorizing my brother and friends when they were in the fourth grade, them having been in the sixth at the time.

I pray in my head that they don’t notice me but my prayers go unanswered as they cross the street, now joining me on the same sidewalk. I know I can’t outrun them so I panic and impulsively decide to take a detour, turning right into an alleyway until I dreadfully notice that I can still hear them from behind. What was once just the sound of obnoxious laughter is now the noise of thundering footsteps following closely, beginning to get louder and louder.

My feet hastily pick up their pace and I can feel the tremors reverberate through my now sweating hands, anxiety filling me to the very core. My trembling makes the process of pulling out my phone agonizingly slow and I silently curse at my misfortune.

The white puffs of air that once brought me entertainment on my walk now serve as a reminder of the danger I’m in. Unlike before, they come out of my mouth in quick intervals and I clench my teeth to bid them away.

Out of nowhere, someone roughly yanks on my ponytail and they’re quick to cut off my yelp as a rough hand forces itself onto my mouth. The assailant painfully holds onto my other arm, both grips enforcing excruciating pain.

“Hey, I recognize you. You go to our school, always around those dumb boys.” One of the perpetrators in front of me sneers as he brings his face up to mine, his rancid breath invading my senses and making me feel even sicker than before.  

“Lucky, aren’t we? We got baby Marsh!” Their eyes lighten up in both delight and recognition. I can feel upcoming bile trying to force its way up my throat from hearing the term of endearment the boys call me used like this, the connotation eerie in this situation.

Trying to make a sound is futile as all my cries for help are muffled, my captor getting annoyed at my squirming and relocating his hold on my arm to my neck instead. He squeezes and I whimper in fear, my breathing becomes more desperate when my kicking and elbows do nothing to deter him.

“Why’re you crying? You’re just asking for it when you walk around in fucking shorts. We live in South Park. No one would dress that way outside in the snow if they weren’t a total slut.” They all degradingly mock me, laughter resounding throughout the cold air as foreign fingers begin to play along the edge of my shorts.

“Pffft, dumb bitch.” One of them slaps me just because they have the power to do so in my vulnerable state before squeezing both of my cheeks together with one hand, hard.

“Who wants to go first?” They all fight over the answer to the question and I clench my eyes shut in dread, the color draining from my face.

Before they can do anything, yelling can be heard and I’m dropped by my captor. I stumble to the dirty ground of the alleyway at the loss of my previous support. On the floor, I painfully dig my nails onto my thighs. My breath hitches and my chest tightens, my panicking intensifying despite finally being free.

Short breaths rake through my trembling body and my nails dig deeper. Crescent moons appear on soft skin, invoking blood. My head starts to feel a little light and I try my hardest to calm myself down but it’s to no avail, my attempts prove to be futile. My unoccupied hand trembles as they reach up to touch wet, stinging cheeks. I didn’t even notice that I‘ve begun to sob as every gasp for air racks my body.

“Holy shit.” Varying voices can be heard from around me but my mind barely registers their words as my head continues to feel even lighter than before.

Even though I’m unable to determine whether or not I’m safe, I don’t flinch when someone crouches next to me and hastily crushes me against their hard chest. I’m numb to my surroundings and everything feels distorted. It’s as if I’m underwater, drowning.

“Ack! She’s hyperventilating! Gyah!”

“No fucking shit captain obvious!”

“Shut the fuck up!” The chest I’m against rumbles and my brain finally registers it as the sound of Kenny’s voice. I muster up what little strength I have to look up and see my boys around me. My brother is directly crouched in front of me and from my peripherals, I can just barely see that it’s Kyle in the same position next to him, eyes wide in panic.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

“Fuck! What should we do?!” It’s Tolkien this time but I can’t look away from my brother. My eyes are begging him to do something, anything to make it stop. Oh how I wish twin telepathy were real.

“Breathe, baby. You need to breathe for me.” The world tilts around me as a soothing voice near my ear urges. A resounding gasp of air struggles to be inhaled but it’s too shaky and tears of frustration continue to fall. My breathing isn’t slowing and I just want this to be over.

“Someone needs to do something before her heart gives out!” Someone loudly kicks what sounds to be a trash can in anger, messily spilling its contents all over the floor and I flinch at the blow.

“Y/N, breathe.” Stan coaches me, taking my hand and placing it on his chest. His large hand encompasses my smaller one, exerting slight pressure until I can feel his heartbeat.

“Just focus on the sound of my voice and follow me. In, and out. In, and out. I’m here. You see me, right? You’re here with me at this very moment and you’re safe. You’re always safe with me. Big brothers always got you, yeah?”

I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t.

I’ve been trying and nothing is happening.

It won’t stop and I can’t fucking breathe.

I don’t want to disappoint everyone but I’m tired.

“Shh, shh. You can, love, you can. I know you can.” Kenny patiently encourages me as he gently brushes strands of my hair away from my sticky, tear-stained cheeks. Heavily disoriented, I didn’t seem to realize that I was verbalizing all of my thoughts.

“You know why? Because my girl is the absolute best—the best girl ever and everyone who's anybody knows that. She’s resilient and just so, so strong. As long as she tries her best, I’ll always be proud of her no matter what and nothing she can do will ever disappoint me. Literally, nothing. She could put a bullet through my head and I’d just pass away in euphoria because my last living memory is of a goddess with ethereal beauty.” Kenny continues and ever so slightly, a corner of my lip lifts up.

This is familiar. This is comforting. I know this. The playful flirting and cheesy, over the top exaggeration. His soothing voice helps guide me back down to Earth as I focus on the rising chest of my brother under my fingertips. This is familiar, too. It’s a sound I’ve always known, even before I was born. Whenever I’m feeling sad or scared, my big brother will always hug me to his chest, my ear pressed against the faint beating of his heart. The rhythmic sound let’s me know that I’m safe, I always am when he’s here. This sound is the other half of me.

“Good girl, you’re doing great. Really great. You always do great and I knew you would.” It’s the voice near my ear again and this time, I’m finally able to look away from my brother to see that the voice belongs to Craig. It appears he had a hand on my shoulder throughout the whole ordeal, his thumb rubbing comforting circles over my jacket.

I now notice that Butters has my other hand firmly in his, tears streaking down both his and Clyde’s faces. They all must have found me after practice and I’m thankful that I wasn’t too far from the school before everything went down.

When they ask me what I was doing out so late, in athletic shorts no less, I mumble an excuse about the girls inviting me to workout in the weight room back at school. They don’t know that it’s not just today that I’ve been trekking home alone at night and I don't want to correct their assumption when they sternly lecture me on how dangerous it is.

After taking me home and getting myself cleaned up, they decide on an impromptu movie night filled with blankets, pillows, and snacks. Last minute texts are sent to their parents, notifying them of an emergency sleepover. They place me in the middle, a cocoon of softness, warmth, and comfort. They let me choose all the movies for the rest of the night and the food we order for delivery.

Our faces are colored a pale green from the clay mask I put on everyone, those with longer hair having mini palm trees at the top of their head from being tied up away from their faces.

Self care, they told me.

This isn’t edible so don’t try to lick it off your face, I told Cartman.

I slowly look around and take in the bright light of the television reflecting off of their individual faces. Some people, like Tolkien and Kyle, are starting to nod off, fighting the last dredges of sleep for my sake. On the other end of the spectrum, Butters and Clyde jump at every loud sound that accompanies the suspenseful music, paranoia painting their faces white. Tweek catches my eye and gently feeds me a kernel of popcorn.

Surrounded by my boys, I smile knowing I’m safe whenever I’m with them.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

I’m sitting in front of my vanity, carefully applying some makeup to cover the faint bruising on my cheek, the process therapeutic. The occasional clicking of buttons could be heard, Craig lounging on my bed with a handheld gaming console in his hands. I softly mouth along to the words of the low music playing from my phone while faint laughter can be heard from downstairs.

I chance a glance up and catch Craig’s reflection from the corner of my eyes, but I don’t turn my head around as we make eye contact through the mirror. My lips unconsciously quirk up, fondness of the boy behind me fills my entire being from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. “Hmm? What’s up, Tucker?”

He doesn’t say anything, only a thoughtful look adorning his attractive features. Ever since the night the boys found me, I’ve been catching their lingering gazes on me from time to time. Eyes distant, as if they’re looking past me.

I settle both of my elbows onto the tabletop, my hands carefully framing both of my cheeks lest I smudge my hard work. My smile doesn’t falter, never when I’m with him, and I lightheartedly tease him, “What? Never seen a good looking Marsh before? I know you’re around my brother all the time but he's not that ugly.”

I’m successful in getting a reaction from him because I’m soon rewarded with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes, his expression softening, “Come here.”

His deep voice is firm, filling my room with its gentle demand and I blindly obey. With Craig, I’d do just about anything for him. He’s now seated upright and has positioned himself at the edge of my bed, legs open and his thumb tapping a beat onto his thigh.

When I’m close enough, the boy grabs both of my hands, interlocking our fingers together. He gives the intertwined digits a swift, reassuring squeeze before guiding me to him to close the short distance between us. I stand in between his legs and he elicits sudden goosebumps along my arms as he carefully drags his long fingers down the length of it, slowly before finding purchase at my hips.

I instinctively loop my arms around his neck, bringing us closer together and he gently squeezes in response. He murmurs so quietly, “Are you okay?”

I softly reply, my thumbs rubbing soothing circles onto the back of his neck, catching strands of smooth black hair. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

Our voices are hushed. There’s no need to be quiet but it feels like we’re in a bubble and at any disruption, no matter how slight, might pop it.

“Yeah… You know I’m always here for you, right?” I softly nod in response, a slight shift in this space of intimacy we’ve created.

“You know you have me, right?” Again, I nod as I hang onto his words.

“Because I’d do anything for you, Y/N. It doesn’t matter what it is—big or small. At the asscrack of dawn or in the middle of the night. I'd drop whatever I was doing if it meant getting to you when you need me.” His long fingers reach up to lightly smooth his thumb at the area where soft skin meets makeup.

“If you ever have any doubts or feel upset about anything, just talk to me, okay? And I promise that I’ll do whatever I can to erase those doubts and remind you of how much you mean to me. I don’t ever want you to feel alone or less of anything, not when you mean everything to me.” The ravenette continues as he moves his hand, this time tucking silky strands of hair away from my face and behind my ear.

I shyly giggle in bliss at his soft touch and even lighter voice. “Where is this coming from, Craig?”

He ignores my question, persistent to convey his message to me. “You do know that, right, Y/N?”

“Of course, I’ve never doubted it or thought otherwise.”

“Good.” The teen says, satiated before bringing us down onto the bed.

My hands lay themselves against his chest to keep myself upright and he caresses my head with both hands, angling my head down to give my forehead a soft kiss. His lips lingers before pulling away.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

It wasn’t hard for the girls to see the slight traces of lingering purple under my attempted camouflage. I tried to reassure them that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine, yet they persisted in trying to make up for it due to the guilt they all felt.

I had just finished applying my daily cover up and was adding the final touches to my hair, making sure that every single strand was in place. Satisfied, I turn the brightness of my computer screen back up until the reflection of myself on the glass disappears. I had time before I was due to head out so I loosely curled every lock cascading down my shoulders, braids adorning either side of my head. The girls wanted to take me out later in the day as an otherwise unnecessary apology and I hummed to myself in excitement.

“Wow, doll. Is this all for me?” I look up from the boss battle I was currently engaged in, pausing to identify the intruder that let out a low whistle.

Kenny leans off from his laidback position on my door frame and lazily walks up behind me, the end of his lips quirked up. He gives me an appreciative hum as he takes his time scanning my appearance, indulging his eyes on my figure. I patiently smile at his appreciation.

“Ah, scratch that. That was a stupid question, you’re beautiful every single day to anyone who lays their eyes on you. You don’t even need to try so I meant to say that this is a welcomed treat.” I turn around in my seat to face him, giggling at his words of praise. I greedily drink them in as I loop my arms around his waist.

“Beautiful?” I seek more of his validation, a deepening blush rising on my cheeks as I parrot back his compliment.

He takes a small section of my hair and gently guides his hand to his face, kissing the soft locks in his possession. He hums to me, “Beautiful, bewitching, alluring… You’re every synonym and every iteration of the word, babe. You define beautiful, you’re the very embodiment of it. That word was created because of you—if I were to look under the definition of it, your name would be there.”

My smile grows wider and my cheeks start to hurt from the action, resulted by the constant influx of euphoria that the blonde never fails to provide me. Whether from being drunk on the male’s compliments or shyness, the color red has made its permanent residence onto my cheeks.

He lets go of my hair and gently cups his large hands on either side of my face, angling it up towards his taller figure.

“Pretty.” He quietly utters to my skin, kissing my forehead.

“Gorgeous.” A kiss to my nose this time.

“Irresistible.” A kiss to my left cheek.

“Ravishing.” A firmer kiss to my right cheek with a playful growl, melodic laughter gets pulled out of me.

“Lovely.” He says much softer this time, watching me with gentle eyes. He keeps his devoted gaze onto my visage, his thumb lightly goes over my lips once. “Everything a guy could ever ask for in a person. Everything that I could ever want in life. If I could have one wish, it’d be you.”

My eyes flicker between bright azure orbs, the air between us charged. Before I can say anything, the sound of muffled yelling from my brother’s room startles us. I hastily look away embarrassed, the moment between us broken.

“Can I make you pretty, too?” I flash him a toothy grin and he playfully rolls his eyes, seeking refuge onto my bed. That’s all the answer I need before I push at his shoulders to guide his back down before I settle myself onto his lower stomach, giggling with an eyeshadow palette in one hand and a makeup brush in the other.

Washing flecks of glittery white over his eyelids, I bring my face closer to his and take the time to study the teen under me while his eyes are closed. His slender hands find purchase at my hips and I find myself mesmerized at the mini constellations that adorn his handsome face. Albeit not many, every freckle looks like a tiny star, accentuating the blonde’s mesmerizing features.

I lean in closer to get a better look as I carefully paint a streak of black, a steady hand making a line. I inspect my latest stroke when his hand gently grabs the wrist of the hand I have hovering over his face, the same one holding my eyeliner brush. His eyes slowly open as to not disturb my art, our faces close to one another. Kenny showcases his boyish smile, flashing me with deep dimples at the lack of space between us and my eyes inadvertently lower, seeking plush lips.

“Haven’t you noticed that yeah, the boys are overprotective over you. But when it comes to Kenny and Craig, it’s different?”

Fuck.

[nikosheba]

I just finished the last chapter of Outlast The Forest and it was quite painful to read, but also beautifully written. Would you mind to expand on what you wrote in the notes, about the plausibility of your interpretation? Just out of curiosity....

Thank you so much, I’m glad you’re here in Turleg hell with me (and that you’re enjoying the story)!

All right, so I’ve been meaning to write this out for a while, but here’s my reasoning behind why I think the Gaurwaith’s captivity of Beleg went down Like That:

(warnings for discussions below the cut of rape/sexual assault)

The first thing I want to note is that Tolkien often speaks very delicately of any matters of sexual violence. The closest I can think of him saying it outright is Morgoth threatening Lúthien in the Lay that he has “a use for every thrall” and that he conceived “an evil lust” for her. Apart from that, it’s mostly references to forced marriages (Mithrellas, Aredhel). 

And then...there’s Children of Húrin.

Second point: the Gaurwaith are rapists. Andróg specifically.

When Forweg and Andróg are going after girls from the nearby village, he talks around what they’re doing. Túrin doesn’t know where they’ve gone, and asks where they are, and the others laugh, then say, “Away on business of their own, I guess [....] They will be back before long, and then we shall move. In haste, maybe; for we shall be lucky if they do not bring the hive-bees after them.”

This could be robbery, of course, but Tolkien also notes specifically that Andróg was driven from Dor-Lómin for the slaying of a woman. When Túrin confronts Andróg about the girl from the village, who has run up with her clothes torn, Andróg just says, “Outlaws know no law but their needs. Look to your own, Neithan, and leave us to mind ours.”

Ulrad afterwards asks if Túrin killed Forweg because they were “seeking honey from the same hive,” and asks, “Did the bees sting him?”

Andróg also reports, “What business Neithan had there I now wonder. Not ours, it seems.”

So here we have a whole conversation, literally about the serial and customary rape of girls, without once speaking of the act itself. I’m just mentioning this because I think it’s clear (to me) that Tolkien intended his audience to pick up on this from context clues.

So, now we get to Beleg. And once again we start speaking around things. When he announces himself to the Gaurwaith, he comes to them with his hands open and outstretched, and Andróg immediately lassos him: 

“He came forward with no weapon in his hands, and held the palms turned towards them; but they leapt up in fear and Andróg coming behind cast a noose over him, and drew it so that it pinioned his arms [...] Then he bade them tie Beleg to a tree beside the cave; and when he was bound hand and foot they questioned him.”

Then they leave him there “without food or water, and they sat near eating and drinking,” and they’re about to brand his face: “Ulrad brought a brand from the little fire that was lit in the cave-mouth. But at that moment Túrin returned. Coming silently, as was his custom, he stood in the shadows beyond the ring of men, and he saw the haggard face of Beleg in the light of the brand.”

Anyway then they have their little reunion (and in the Lay they kiss, I’m never getting over it), and it says Túrin “tended him with what skill he had.”

So, already something has happened that Beleg needs tending from, despite the fact that all we’ve heard of the Gaurwaith doing is not feeding him. Already we’re talking around something. Then:

“[Beleg] said no more, and did not speak of Andróg’s malice, to which his evil handling had been chiefly due; for perceiving Túrin’s mood he feared to be disbelieved and to hurt their old friendship, driving Túrin back to his evil ways.”

So my question is, what does Túrin not know? He knows that Beleg was tied to a tree. He knows they were going to brand him. So something else, some “evil handling,” has happened that he will not speak of.

Then the next day, it says Beleg was “swiftly healed of his pains,” which, again, what pains? We’re informed of all the times the characters are physically injured, usually. 

Then, when Beleg returns to Thingol and Melian, he “told them of all that had happened, save only his evil handling by Túrin’s companions.” 

And to me, him being unwilling to say something like “They weren’t sure who I was so they tied me to a tree” doesn’t really...make sense. This is more than one time that he’s refused to say what happened to him, and it’s done in such a way that to me, it feels like Tolkien giving him the dignity and agency to not sort of make it a lurid spectacle. 

So to sum up: Beleg was captured for multiple days by a group of known rapists and they did something to hurt him that he always refused to talk about from then on, that was bad enough to cause him pain and injury but that was easily possible to hide from people, even from people tending to his wounds.

I think if you’re determined not to see it that way, you don’t have to, but I think the interpretation that one or more of the Gaurwaith sexually assaulted him holds the most water. And thematically speaking, Andróg is said to have “the hardest heart” among all of them, and is certainly viewed as the most predatory among them after Forweg’s death. It also gives a LOT more weight to Beleg later healing Andróg of his wound, and Andróg eventually saving Beleg from the next time he’s bound and helpless at someone’s mercy.

But we’ll get there in a few chapters :)

[idjitlili]

Thor,Son of Odin

Thorin x Modern!reader

Summary:Imagine being apart of the company ;and calling Thorin,Thor the god of Thunder.

a/n i hate wattpad it deleted 6 hours of work on this ,bloody bullshit and i fell over in that time todays going amazing, I passed my gsces though.

Word count:3277

Okay ,okay ,let's do this one last time. You Y/n L/n ,some how ended up in Tolkiens universe,the hobbit.Bro you was beyond freaked out to wake up snuggling up with some dude,practially laying on top of him,his arms around you holding you. His hair dark ,long ,silky almost,his face wore but structured,his body muscular,yet some what stumpy. Your face so close to his ,as ou come to reality ,you do not know who in bloody hell this man was.

You had brought your hand up his his cheek ,poking it once ,nothing,again,slight groan but nothing really,again his time mulitple harsh pokes ,finally his ocean coloured eyes shot open. They looked into your e/c ones you screamed then he screamed. Pushing yourself of his out of his grip.

"who are you?" he had shouted ,in shock really.

"no! Who in bloody earth are you? and why were we snuggling? Kidnapper! HELP"  you had stood up ,your face turning in every direction to see where in gods earth you were,just all you could see was forest and a bunch of men,who surrounded you and the strange blue eyed man,looking at you strangely. You looked around again and you saw a man that was dressed as a wizard , he looked like cogsworth,damn he really does.

"oh I get it. I will rather die than take part in your orgies!" you had shouted again ,laughing in horror after ,you were very much terrified in this moment.

"I'm sorry ,what orgies? what gives you that idea?" the smallest one hadspoken up pushing passed the others ,you had pulled your attention to him ,noticing his cute dirty blond hair,travelling down to his huge hair feet,letting out a gasp. "w-why are you feet so large?" you had whispered in shock. "I am hobbit ,of the shir-" " a what?" damn if this couldn't get any weird.

"Enough! WHo are you?why wre you trying to seduce our king?" A balding muscular tattooed man had interrupted ,your questioning."Your king? I havent heard of a king,not at least in europe for over a hundred years! Also last thing I remember was laying in my bed ,not in the arms of a 'king'"  you groaned out this sitution had began to give you to give you a headache.

"this is Thorin ,son Thrain ,son of Thror,the rightful dwarven king of erebor."

"Now enough of the bullshit ,Thor SOn of Odin ,God of thunder, I want to go home! THere are no such thing as dwarven king ,nor dwarves,nor whatever a hobbit  is ,and there's certainly no such place as erebor on this earth! This isn't bloody princess diaries."

The group of men had just stared at you in conflusion,as you had fainted ,therefore Gandalf had concluded that you will be apart of the company. As he had realised some how ,some way you had ended up in an another universe,well all he knew as some sorta force had brought you their world for a reason. He had forced Thorin to accept that you were to be apart of the company ,even if he felt absolute hatred towards you.

When you had came to the first thing you saw was Thorin,so you had made a run at him punching him square in the nose,only to get this sidekick,that tattoo'ed punk to grab a hold of you. "Oi what the fuckk ,get off me!"  yeah they basically tied you to a try ,and then from that Gandalf had explained everything ,and in a couple of hours you had agreed to join ,you still did not trust them however.

You had put upon an pony ,sat behind Bilbo ,the hobbit. "hey just so you know I am still not joining in on your orgies, I do not want to lose my innocence to anyone apart from a nice MHM-" you had pretended to cup an ass in your hands."set of cake shape ass,god dAMN."Bilbo had turned to look at you with a face of pure disgust ,,whereas others of the company such as the kings nephews had laughed. "and what is this orgy you speak of lassie?" the oldest dwarvf had spoken up you had found out his name was Balin older brother of Thorin's side piece.

"oh- its basically when a group of people do the stuff eachother all together" now bursts of laughter had filled your ears. "I assure you miss y/n l/n,the is none of that." Gandalf had spoken sternly ,he did not want to witness that no thank you.

"Oh good then, oh mister hobbit you have such beautiful locks." you had brought you had to touch a single curcle upon his head,whilst the hobbit had blushed brightly at your compliment. "oh well thank you ,as do you have lovely h/c locks." you had smiled widely ruffling his hair,Thorin heard this and did not like it,jerk.

Anways skip to a week later Thorin is brooding with his coak off,those pants really defined his ass,you were sat on a log next to Bilbo,you had nudged him gently grabbing his attention. His eyes filled with red from the warmth of the fires flames as he looked up at you,Thorin's nephews had seen your staring at your uncle and were watching and listening intensely.

"Thor has a nice nutt ,mhmm ,just like Jensen Ackles ass." Bilbo had choked on his own tongue ,as you just glaced back the dwarven kings ass one last time before turning back to Bilbo.

"aye, Y/n ,psttt" Kili had whispered shouted gaining you and Bilbo's attention ,he had gestured for you to go to him with his fingers,you had grabbed Bilbo by his hand before standing up,dragging him with you to sit beside the brothers. "wasssuppppp" damn this isn't the 2000s ,its bloody some age,you don't remember Gandalf got a bit boring if you were totally honest. Fili and Kili smirk to themselves, before Kili speaks up,Fili isn't as talkative as Kili is."you fancy our uncle." you had instantly scoffed , Bilbo had just pretend to be studying the stars ,and avoiding your bullshit lies.

"I see how it is,you trying to get your uncle laid, well yes he has the perfect ass, but I hardly know any of you,except Bilbo I accidentally saw him naked, he has a the cutest little bu-""Y/n!" you had cackled loudly catching some of the dwarves that were still awake attention, the nephews grinned even larger than before at you. "so you admit to looking at our uncles bottom,and you've seen Bilbo nude! Well!" he had basically shouted.

Bofur had turned around raised an eyebrow at you ,whilst Thorin pretended to be brooding still. "what?! Lass,you've seen the little fellow naked????" you had sighed loudly in distress,bloody god darn dwarves. "I say it again it was an accident!I was go for a pee, and then I daw that Bilbo had just gotten of a lake and was wearing a toel,so I decided to scare him, I didn't know he was going to scream ,and drop his towel." Bilbo held his head in in his hands in complete embarrassment.

"what did you except to happen lass? "

"I thought that scream was you."

"wow thanks for coming to save me then. plus i thought Bilbo might of just -you know what I dont know"

Thorin had felt a load off of his shoulders fall away ,knowing you didn't get it on with a dude that was half of your height, he didn't like the fact you were on this quest ,but he couldn't help thinking you had some nice hair. He also felt like grinning ,but of course a scowl was always imprinting on his face,he hadn't had a woman check him out in what it seemed as forever.

That was months of ago now, in which currently you had all been captured by elves ,well the prince of the Greenwood realm,Legolas.The company had been separated from you and Thorin and Bilbo was no where to be seen ,but you knew he was sneaky ass..butt. This elven king Thranduil , had did some voodoo to his face ,spat in Thorin's face with his stinky ass breathe...who needs to talk to someone that close up,might aswell had kissed him. After he was done with the dwarven king he started eyeing you up so you did back ,his ass mainly.

"and who are you ,andwhy does a woman travel with pigs?" his voice like silver ,yet cold as ice, but he would not stare bloody still,while you rated his ass. "Y/n L/n-god damnit stand still," the King had stopped , you had turned your body to get a look at his...flat ass,before leaning back to check out Thorin's. "what ARE you doing?" bro they didn't even tie your hands ,so you had made your way behind Thorin cupping his ass,making him gasp in shock ,as you squeezed gently,before heading back to Thranduil who shook his head no,you didn't want to be executed anyways.

"that king has a better ass than you, I suggust some squats, as your personality nor looks are in favour f-""ENOUGH. Tell me who are you?" he had interrupted you rudely , Thorin now less red ,smirking,he was glad he didn't end up in boner city.  "uh mister lanky stick ,I am y/n ,like I already told you,now can I and my mister patrick swayze be brought to our cells, I don't want to have sex with a skeleton..I mean a elven king."

"TAKE THEM TO THE CELLS,stay here an rot for all I care,100 years is a mere blink for an elf." you smirked at the king,as you and Thorin were grabbed by guards ,being pulled away. "I feel bad for your son,he inherited your flat ass, the poor kid don't get any attention from his daddy." If you were still infront of Thranduil he would've slapped you.  However instead you gpt see his son look to the ground ,away from his fathers gaze ,before walking out of the throne room shortly after you and Thorin.

Soon as you are shoved in separate cells,the questions start from the caged dwarves. "what happened up there?!" Kili questioned loudly,"I may have cupped a kings ass."

"You touched Thranduil's behind?"

"no I almost did,but damn You should have seen his face when I told him Thorin's was better than his and that I fet sorry for his son gainning a flat ass from his father."

Silence was in the air ,for a few seconds before the company had figured out what you had meant wwhen you said about touching a king's behind.

"you touched Uncle's butt infront of Thranduil?"

"oh hey ,Bilbo." thus Bilbo lead you all to the barrels ,in which you sat in on by yourself ,it was the ride of your life, and no kili doesn't get shot,because Dwalin held you you up while pulled down on the lever, therefore no one was injured. All that happened really was you were completely soaking ,and you stayed that way until you arrived at Bard's house,thank jesus you didn't have to go through the toliet.

Bard's daughters had handed you a blanket which you had wrapped around your shoulders ,in hope to warm up. However you could not help but see Thorin ,who refused a blanket politely. His beautiful long locks dripping ,his clothes sticking to his skin,darn he must be freezing ,dwarves and their stubborn asses. He really must be cold ,due to the scribe of this tale, experiences with wet long hair ,it takes ages to dry and keeps you freezing.

So you had decided without really thinking ,to walk towards Thorin who just stood waiting ,whilst everyone else was settling down,removing the blanket from your shoulders ,placing it upon his. Now you just stood next to him ,unsure what to do know ,blushing slightly feeling his eyes on you,gasp when he gets closer ,drapping the blanket back onto you ,but keeping it on his ,pulling you close by wrapping his arm around you ,as to keep you warm too.You had wrapped your arm around his waisr ,you could already feel him warming up against you ,you could smell him aswell ,and feel his hair against your neck.

However you did not look up to see the company's stares at their king,if anything they were worried about his behaviour,yet they wondered if it was true,was you his his one? But Thorin saw it ,yet no one dared to speak upon it , as he was their king ,yet his nephews ,oh they wanted to tease their uncle until the end of the one ring. They had smirked at their uncle,kili raising his eyebrows at Thorin ,who sent a deathly glare to his nephews.

He had broken the silence shortly after that,"where are the weapons?" and of course after that he was like they are shit ,okay lets go rob a bank ,thus the next time you were so close to Thorin was after your second boat ride in the last 36 hours.

Kili,Fili,OIn and Bofur were all left behind ,to catch up when Kili had recovered. THerefore the rest of you were all now to hike to Erebor ,god it was so tiring you felt as if your feet were on fire. You had groan in displeasure before muttering "I swear dwarves must have some hella leg muscle ,yet  I don't, I cant walk." Bilbo had scoffed next to you 'your legs are 10 times as long ,you got it easy'

"I hear humans ,cannot walk after 10 minutes with a dwarf,do you want to take a short break?" Thorin had a smirk inlaced with his voice ,as DWalin laughed loudly as if he was drax laughing at peter ,he was cocky when he wasn't trying to set an example for his nephews."no I want to be  carried Thor." you had spoken with annoyance ,not watching where you was going ,tripping falling harshly on the sharp rocks ,most deinitely cutting your knees open,you had let another groan. "god damn it korg." you had muttered yet again. Thorin had made it over to you ,pulling you to your feet , before turning away ,and kneeling infront of you.

"come on get on,we don't have time to delay" and with that Thorin oakenshield agve you a piggyback ride. "Thor son of Odin ,a God carrying me? No one would believe this."Thorin didn't understand who the fuck that was obviously,you had explained to him what a god was ,the same as the what they call malah ,or near the same.

Anyways he carried you all the way to Erebor ,with ease as well,he was indeed strong,and that was a long journey ,you even offered to walk but nope he would not take it. And after all the dragon stuff ,it was clear to you that he was suffering from dragon sickness ,he made everyone search for the arkenstone except you and Bilbo. You'll never guess what he requested you to do... Well he was on his throne and he was like "y/n ,come here" okay in which you did. "sit on my lap" nope and you walked away ,damn we he so forward now,you missed the shy Thorin.

It got worse and worse and soon enough Thranduil's army had arrived ,aswell as laketown ready to fight to claim what was theirs. Thorin was being a little bitch ,when practially he was a billionare,stopped sitting on bilbo , he isnt Dildo Gaggins ,not a huge stick up your butt.  Frankly you had enough.

"Thor ,if you dont snap out of it , I am going to show all these elves my breasts,you wouldn't allow a young woman to do such a think would you?" okay so blackmail is the only thing you could think of ,Thorin basically ignored you. "OI YOU FLAT ASS KING!" you  had gained the kings attention ,as Thranduil looked up at you ,as did Thorin as you began to lift your shirt up,revealing your belly button then high and high. UNtil two arms gripped your middle lifting you out of view. "No,I will not allow an elven king see my ones breasts,nor an one else" he had growled ,you had lifted your hands up in surrender ,well you tried.

He just told you he was your one and you was like ''okay bro,you do you. " ,well you didn't believe it ,you just thought it was the dragon sickness,you were the only female around ..  

Then of course he tried to throw Bilbo over, which that didn;t happen he escaped ,little rat,he is cute boy though, he did what was right. In which it got worse everyone fighting and such ,Thorin had went back to this throne ,so you had followed him with a better plan than before. As you got close to Thorin ,who watched your every move.

"I've been waiting for so long Now I've finally found someone to stand by me We saw the writing on the wall And we felt this magical fantasy Now with passion in our eyes There's no way we could disguise it secretly So we take each others hand 'Cause we seem to understand the urgency

Just remember You're the one thing I can't get enough of So I'll tell you something This could be love

Because I've had the time of my life No, I never felt this way before Yes I swear it's the truth And I owe it all to you."

you had spoke for Thorin to hear as you close with each step,yeah you just quoted song lyrics ,most famously know from dirty dancing ,but yeaah. THorin had stood up to meet you ,and once you had you had cupped his cheeks ,pressing a quick kiss to his lips,before cheekly pinching his butt making him gasp.

"Thorin it isn't right, we must help them ,please." as you said his actual name he knew he had to ,his bestfriend he had abandon trying to kill, maybe a little more than friend,could be dead.  He had sent you a smile before grabbbing your hand throwing his crown off. "wait you need a shirt like you gave bilbo ,I have feeling you will need it..thor son of odin."

And lucky you did say that and say hold on dude this sounds fishy ,why azog look like a shark off that will smith fish movie,fish tale? Oh its trap kili ,fili come here. THus you saved the Durins lives.

"hey if you are thor that makes your younger brother Loki ,wait he's dead sorry, uh your sister dis ,Loki and Fili and Kili Hela because her dad is LOki-not saying your sister is a man -well she looks like it-oh um sorry ,very handsome though."

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Trophy Chapter Seven

Masterlist

Warnings: Adult situations +18, Smut ,Dub con, Coercive behavior, Daddy kink, Threats of violence, Masturbation, Swearing

A/n: So this has taken absolutely ages to write... there are many things that i wanted in the chapter that havent made it i was struggling about how much plot i added to this chapter and i can only apologize for how long it has taken m0but also wanted to covey the back story a little more. I'm happy with it and i hope you are to. As a head's up this story might end up being a fifteen to twenty chapters I hope. Any way I do hope this is worth the wait. p.s if you want the other chapters they are in order on my masterlist which is linked above as always.xx

Taglist: @havenoffandoms​ @aphrodites-punch​ @charlieferret​ @thatgirly81​ @two-unbeatable-beaters​ @viking-raider​ @iloveyouyen​ @black-ninja-blade

Trophy Chapter Seven

Henry sat behind his desk he was annoyed, you could tell by the way he sat shoulders, neck and jaw twitching every now and then, he was wound tight. The power radiating from him cast waves across the space leaving the air thick, yet behind it was something else, something that was echoing across the room each time he cast his gaze to you. He sent smirks to you when he caught you stealing glances at him. Feeling his glances linger you faltered scanning the same line of your book for what seemed the hundredth, willing yourself not to look at him not to give him a reason to approach you. You wanted to be left alone with your thoughts sighing you tucked your feet up on the sofa cringing you huffed as your bare ass pulled on the leather...You just knew you was leaving marks...The knowledge made you curl up tighter tucking your skirt under yourself shielding your center from His glances. You couldn't concentrate, to many things had happened already today and to many thoughts ran around inside your head. You could kick yourself ,was it right? You'd sold yourself to the devil...For what? You looked him over taking in the way his shoulders tensed as he moved pulling a slim tablet from his desk flicking open the stand connecting it to a wireless keyboard. Was this the plan all along...For him to back you into a corner like this, to make you hand yourself over willingly?  To resign yourself to staying with him. Trapping yourself in this house forever...To protect a fantasy of what could have been? A man who you started imagining a future with...An agent... A liar. You heaved a deep sigh moving a hand to swipe at your eyes then pinched the bridge of your nose dropping the book to your knees that were firmly tucked below your chin. Your emotions finally catching up with you. Tears were quickly forming in your eyes. It could have been a ruse, a cruel ploy to use as cover. Had it? It had felt so natural, so pure. Like you could have had it all but was it real?... Or did Stephan think you knew something was you just part of the job?.... You looked over to Henry he had said the day you got here that Stephan was using you... At the time you just thought it was the mans madness talking but now?...He could have been right...As far as things stood at the moment Henry had done many things to you...But he had not lied to you. Did he know all along? was he in some fucked up way trying to help you?. Could he possibly love you as he said he did?. Is he just acting now? Playing along? it was entirely possible Henry was a smart man. There was no doubt about that, you don't get to were he is being an idiot...And  it was convenient that everything was in  his favor that he was coming out on top again... You shook your head, they were some very dangerous thoughts. You felt him look at you again and he sighed at you watching tears fall landing on the pages open in front of you. He just rose out of his seat moving ,opening the door letting in Kal who had been waiting dutifully out side the door.

"Go see your mother" you blinked not quite understanding but soon realized he had been speaking to Kal as the dog jumped up on to the sofa beside you nudging the book from your hands to the floor. Henry moved collecting the hardback copy of Tolkien's Hobbit placing in on the small side table by you. He smiled as Kal stealthily made himself comfy on your lap, making you uncurl to accommodate him lathering you with kisses. Henry moved his hand ruffling the bears ears praising him"Good boy, you sit there and protect your mother hmm?...He is definetly taken with you, my fully trained gaurd dog becomes a soppy puppy around you" you smiled a little scratching Kals chin, Henry crouched down looking at you moving to pat your hip

"...Pet? try not to think to much...You have no need to be sad my love, now is a time for us to...move past everything to look forward to our future... I'm going to keep my word as long as you keep yours. Now try and cheer up for me" you forced a smile at him then let your face drop again. He sighed deciding to give you time to yourself then made his way across the office to his seat again. You whined digging your fingers into the dogs thick fur pressing your face into his neck as he rested his chin on your shoulder panting happily as you continued to cuddle the massive fluff ball. You closed your eyes it was pathetic that you'd throw away everything to protect the first man to ever show you attention. But what was done is done. There was no way Henry would ever let you back track, and if you did you knew for certain that you'd be wholey responsible for Stephan's demise. And to make matters worse in the middle of your confused despair you now had to face the man who had started all this, who had betrayed you. Fletcher who had set you up to be kidnapped. With no idea as to what would happen to you, or you'd like to think he had no idea but you doubted it. You turned your head resting the side of our face into the dog sniffling trying hard not to cry, this time with anger. You shook sitting silent,  you didn't want to attract the mobsters attention any more than you had. You could feel him getting worse feeling him seeth to himself as he tapped away at the tablet every few seconds cursing under his breath. You moved back leaning back as Kal followed your movements to lounge across you getting watching the door.

Finally after the longest hour of your life there was a timid knock on the door then a nasally voice you knew all to well.

"Oh he hasn't answerd must be busy-" you heard a thump as if someone had been slammed against the door.

"Get your ass in here fletcher!"  You jumped making Kal nudge your hand as if to say keep petting me. The good boy was helping with your anxiety over the whole situation. Your attention was brought back to Henry as he spoke his tone was dark, cool and calculated. He looked high and mighty, smug as he sat taller a lopsided grin upon his face he winked in your direction making you blink slowly this was business and he was most definitely the boss. Slowly the door opened and your ex-employer came in,the usually tall confident man was hunched forward trying to look as insignificant as possible. Nervous and flighty, he didn't want to be here and you couldn't blame him, hell you didn't want to be here. Henry raised a brow to the door left wide open making Fletcher turn sharply and close it you jumped closing your eyes tight as it slammed beside you prompting another nudge from Kal who was covering you leaning across you trying to be a wall between you ad the other male. The terrified man stood still then, took a few steps in the room as he quickly began stammering apologies to Henry which he rolled his eyes at and held a hand up .Stop. Fletcher moved forward with a forced smile and sat down in front of the desk twisting his hands.

"S-so Mr Cavill.....I erm wh-what did you need to talk to me about?"

"Get up"  Fletcher tilted his head as Henry leaned back in his chair placing his forearms on the arms of the chair taking a relaxed pose

"Wha-why?" Fletcher asked but soon moved when Henry's blues turned icey

"Did I stutter? Get. Up." Fletcher jumped leaping out of the chair as Henry's voice was sharp and foreboding. Fidgeting with his hands Fletcher took a a deep shaking breath and looked about ready to piss himself. Henry moved slowly closing the kickstand on the back of the tablet casually with a flick of his wrist, moving to place it and the keyboard in the drawer he had got it from. He looked up through his lashes at the man.

"You see Fletcher...This is the problem we have.....You make decisions....The wrong decisions and then you try to back track." Fletcher looked at Henry and swallowed.

"You are to do as your told and nothing more, things are going to change, your not going to make a move, decide anything talk to anyone your not even going to take a shit without my fucking say so is that fucking clear?" Fletcher moved forward wide eyed at the implications.

"But-Henr.....Mr Cavill I didn't say anything,  I just gave him the trail you .Gave me...That’s all!....I swear....I'd never betray you like that we're friends" Henry laughed loud at him then fixed  to coward before him with a stern look.

"Friends?...You think we are ...Friends?....Sure. I may have kept you out of prison which; you paid me for and I agreed to the loans... We drank together what once? Twice?...I may have even wiped your debt with our last little deal...." Henry's eyes swiped over you for a second his haze turning hungry for a moment then returned to the quivering man before him.

"But I am not your friend...I don't have friends...It was business....You are a pathetic little man who bit off more then he could chew. Now be a good boy and tell me What did he tell you? Was there anything that seemed strange about him? Anything at all think back.." Fletcher furrowed his brow confused and shook his head.

"I don't understand he was just an immigrant-"

"He used a false identity... Did you do a background check on him?" It was a test. Henry knew Fletcher didn't check him out, he couldn't have.For an agent the kid hadn't covered his tracks very well he practically popped up out of thin air. But Henry was more interested in whether Fletcher would lie to him, he needed to know how close of an eye to keep on him .Fletcher however went a deathly shade of pale, he hadn't known about Stephan.

"I-I don't... I don't know ...He seemed to check out when I hired him-" Henry slammed his fist down making you whimper into Kal’s fur closing your eyes.

"YOU GOT SOME FUCKING BALLS TO SIT IN MY HOME, IN MY FUCKING OFFICE AND LIE RIGHT TO MY FACE!! YOU DIDN'T EVEN CHECK HIM DID YOU?" Fletcher let out a little yelp taking a step back and shook as he nodded.

"Y-your right I'm s-sorry ple-please I rushed him through, I knew I-I didn't have long to replace Y/n...But I swear I didn't know, you have to believe me...He is just a boy...You said so yourself! A boy who doesn't know his place!.A silly little shit who thinks he is in love, or that's what I thought. That maybe he will give up after he realized Y/n wasn't the only place to get his dick wet....I mean she didn't look like she'd be the best fuck in the world you know?" Henry glowered at him the room got colder. Bad move. Henry was jumping down his throat before you even had the chance to be offended.

"Excuse me? What the fuck did you just say about MY woman? You wanna run that one past me again?...Well? come on don't hold back now tell me what you think of her... Oh you haven't got the balls now have you? Let me tell you something you sniveling little cunt you ever disrespect her again and I will personally cut that sorry excuse for a prick right from between your little chicken shit legs and choke you to death with it understand? you keep your fucking mouth shut if you know whats good for you!" stupidly enough you couldn't help the smile or small flutters in your chest as you heard this dangerous man defend you so quickly, even if it was murder...Something about it made you special? dare you say cared for? Fletcher shook realizing his mistake to late.

"Yo-Your woman?....I'm so-sorry Mr Cavill I didn't know you had taken her for yourself...Ple-Please forgive me I didn't mean-" Henry growled waving him off if he let the man continue to grovel then they would be here all fucking day. He sighed rolling his eyes before continuing.

"One check...One five minuet check and you could have avoided this fucking mess...There is no Stephan clermont...I’m pretty sure he was a fucking agent, we are not sure what branch.. You let an agent into your fucking cafe! Fuck knows what he has seen and heard because you didn't screen him properly..."

"H-he was a what? Oh fuck oh fuck! Mr Cavill? I'm sorry I am so sorry please..I-I didn't know! You have to believe me!" The poor man all but got on his hands and knees,pleading with the kingpin opposite him. He was trembling as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Henry sat back keeping silent, he wanted to make the man squirm for a few moments, he thrived of the terror permeating the room.Finally he moved forward tilting his head sighing.

"However it has worked in my...Our favor....Hasn't it little one?" You shrunk into Kal as Fletcher looked at you shocked seeing you sitting by the door on the huge leather sofa,you scowled at him wanting desperately to launch the book in your hands at him, to scream and shout attack him even.

"Y/n? Yo-your okay? Thank god I was so worried- I was sure Henry wasn't going too hurt you...But there was still a doubt...But he hasn't and your here!" you stood up seeing red, Fletcher flinched as Kal strode past him looking at him warily. A part of you wanted Kal to take a bite but you didn't want to see him turn like that, he was the only one you trusted not to hurt you in this house. Tears blurred your eyes as you struggled to temper your anger.Worried?How dare he! How fucking dare he say that to you! Your stomach clenched as you finally registered his words. But before you had any time to think it over you was already screaming at him. Henry slowly pushed himself out from the desk waiting for the blow up about to happen.

"BULLSHIT! BULL-SHIT YOU WASN'T WORRIED AT ALL!  YOU CUNT YOU FUCKING SET ME UP, USED ME AS SOME FUCKING BARGAINING CHIP FOR WHAT?" You screamed at him moving across the small space towards him spitting out your words, you didn't notice Henry move to focused on the man in front of you as you gained on him as he shuffled back nearly tripping over the chair beside him.

"I TRUSTED YOU! WHAT DID YOU GET? WHAT DID HE FUCKING GIVE YOU HUH? TELL ME FLETCHER JUST WHAT WAS I WORTH?" He took another step back unprepared for your out burst he stumbled back. You cried as your anger overwhelmed you Henry bypassed him capturing your arms in his hands pressing you back with little effort. Standing between you and Fletcher, his massive frame concealed him, a huge wall of sculpted muscle. You frowned up at Henry for a second only to twist your head to the side around him and carried on screaming at the sleazeball cowering behind him.

"DID YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN TO ME?! TELL ME DAMNIT!" You cried as Henry quickly pulled you away from the man you struggle feebly as you was directed away from the man you wanted to claw at.

"I thought you were going to be safe! I was sure Henr-Mr Cavill wouldn't put you in the circuit in town-" You fumed crying torn between anger and despair. Henry finally moved sitting back down holding your heaving form flush against him making you lean his hand resting across your abdomen he moved kissing your hair. He rocked you slightly the caring gesture seemed to flip a switch as you immediately crumbled into his chest, your nerves were shot and you had just about enough. You gave in to the need for comfort, wanting someone to hold as the days rollacoaster finally caught up with you. You moved turning shifting on his lap tucking yourself into him sobbing, clutching and twisting at his shirt. Henry adjusted his hold on you, cupping your legs  and widening his own to support you more comfortably.

"I ha-hate you...Why?...Why did yo-you do this?....."  you brought a hand up to your face wiping away the tears looking up at Henry completely lost falling apart at the seams, you looked at him in that moment for answers. For reasons and reassurance.

"There is a fine line between love and hate, hasn't anyone ever told you that pet?" He smiled when you looked at him confused then sobbed he pulled your face to his chest again.

"What did I do to deserve this?" You whined against him ,loosing yourself into something you still didn't understand yet. Henry smirked feeling you give in. He just began shushing you and rubbing your back soothing you, his eyes on Fletcher the whole time. Fletcher watched in fear seeing first hand just what this man's cruelty truly was, how he had gotten under your skin and manipulated you, twisted you into doing exactly what he wanted. How he can redesign and remold anyone to suit his own ends. And that was his strength. That was the secret to his power Henry was a silver tongue and master at mind games. He made the game and everyone around him was playing it whether they knew it or not. Fletcher gulped he knew he wasn't going to walk away from this,  there was no escape you cannot outsmart this man. You cannot win against the devil himself.

To anyone in that moment Henry looked like the cat who'd caught the canary.A king sitting on his golden throne with his little sacrifice curled up in his lap. So pleased with himself and how things were playing out as he allowed you to wrap yourself around him willingly as you wept into his chest. Fletcher could see through the veneer for the first time and what he saw terrified him. Just what had he gotten himself into? And more importantly how was he going to get out of it?

Henry moved slowly whispering into your neck as he tilted his head down.

"Shh love thats enough....shh shh its okay your okay I'm here....Thats it good girl..... No need to get yourself so worked up...what's done is done and we can all put it behind us....." he finished with a chaste kiss to your neck , you could feel how Fletcher was uncomfortable as Henry worked on your neck slowly sucking making you gasp and wriggle as he dug his teeth in determined to make a show for the other male. He smirked against your neck as you whined, one of his hands had slid up under your skirt digging his fingers into the raised welts from yesterday,you flush as you jolted you hips to escape his hand. You felt ashamed as you  enjoyed the thick thighs below you rubbing across your ass even if it did sting, you have almost no control as his words relaxed you. Letting you melt into him closing your eyes giving yourself into his soothing tone.

Henry finally looked up at Fletcher through his lashes mouth still hovering at your neck he pulled back with a parting kiss, he moved his arms to wrap around you as he felt you settle into him completely relaxed , you had past the point of panic and simple stayed there soaking up what ever comfort he was willing to give you. Chuckling he grinned knowingly across the desk he knew the man across from him was panicking, that he had clicked that Henry was much more then he appeared and that letting him get away with this wasn't an option.

Well man? He was a little weasel- a little weasel that had owed him big time, tax avoidance wasn't the biggest thing Henry could help cover up usually he didn't bother but Fletcher was desperate when he came to him begging for his help. Two businesses and seventeen years worth of dodging the tax man ,national insurance pensions you name it he wasn't paying finding loopholes and then it had all caught up to him. It was enough to make anyone desperate when the tax man started asking too many questions, if he went down he wouldn't get out of prison at his age. So Henry decided to help, he needed to start somewhere in the new town and it was a piece of piss. He helped arranging everything, saving Fletcher's ass but it had come with a hefty price tag. Fletcher was getting brave after nearly a few months, out right refusing to pay him back. That is what prompted his visit to the crappy cafe, if he asked you probably wouldn't remember serving him or chatting to him but he did. He spent the days and weeks after obsessing over you, he was unsure how to go about seeing you he didn't want to leave anything to chance. He wanted you. He wanted to feel that peace that you caused in him, you were his refuge, his little piece of normality. It wasn't until the second visit to Fletcher that he had made a deal.It was simple, Fletcher had pleaded with him making promise after promise, first of money then assets, use of the cafe; which Henry had already been doing for smaller deals but then he finally offered something Henry actually wanted. You. He offered you as his payment saying that your were pretty enough and would make him a lot of money in the prostitution ring he had in town. He remembered that moment, he was filled with unadulterated rage and pure joy all at once. The mere thought of you being used in such a way made him want to step back and let his boys do their thing, yet he couldn't for the life of him let the opportunity pass.He was also frightened for you, the fact Fletcher was willing to sell you into that kind of life was to much of a risk, what if he sold you to someone else? And they did force you into that life?. No absolutely not he had to save you. Protect you. So he accepted.You for his debt. It was decided that you would keep working at the cafe for the time being.... With higher pay and better conditions, he couldn't have his woman struggling could he?.

He had got everything ready at that point he was going to become a regular customer and try to wrangle a date that way, yet when he visited you were never out front always in the kitchen. So he moved to his second plan the long game becoming your landlord and bumping into you as he visited the building...He would play himself of as a relative of one of the residents. It was the perfect plan he would have then have access to your building and apartment,have all security footage of you coming and going so he would know when to pop in he was going to up the security and such too. He could make it impossible for you to ignore him. Once you were going steady he would rocket the rent forcing you to move out....And in with him.That was the plan you'd have been content came to him willingly! thinking it was all meant to be just as much as him! You'd have fallen so in love with him all on your own!. All Fletcher had to do was keep you occupied for a few months as he bought your building. It wasn't a big ask really.Instead he had made you unknowingly train up your replacement. Stephen who he now knew had been posing as some danish pratt and HE had tricked you! quickly wooing you into a date.

"Fletcher...keep your eyes open for Stephan...I want him found...He gets in touch with you you tell me" he nodded quickly sensing this meeting was going to be wrapped up soon. You wriggled against Henry pulling yourself  out of your safe space still desperate for answers.

"No! Tell me what happened?" You struggled as Henry brought his arms around you tighter grunting in your ear.

"Enough my love!...That is enough...Like I have told you its in the past! Unless you are already backtracking on our little deal?" You froze twisting to look up at him, his voice was calm but firm and sliced past your ear in hot breaths. You shook.

"No!-no I'm not...I just want to know...I need to know why? Why he did this? Please...." Henry sighed looking at you for a few seconds then to Fletcher who was literally shaking on the spot.

"Leave...As far as we are concerned you now fucking owe me again...Same as before my boys will be there to collect on Thursdays as usual and I will be watching you, you fuck up again and its over for you we clear?" He took a step forward gasping motioning to you.

"B-BUT I PAID IT OFF...YO-YOU  GOT HER DIDN'T YOU!?" You froze as you got your answer. A debt. You were just a debt? Money... you thought he'd at least sell you of for something less common then  money. You sat shell shocked not really sure why you expected it to be over something else but hearing him say it so freely made you, you wasn't sure hurt? Insulted even. Your thoughts were cut short a Henry replied confirming what you'd just heard.

"Yes your right I do have her... And she has agreed to stay here with me of her own free will" he kissed your temple and chuckled but quickly snarled as Fletcher turned on you.

"YOU LITTLE USELESS CUNT! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE?" You jumped and cowered sliding back grasping Henry's hand for comfort as Fletcher moved forward arms raised as if you try and grab you. For a second you panicked that he would and held onto Henry tighter. It was then that Kal crept from beside the desk growling his heckles raising looking frightening as he stood tall staring at the frantic man. Henry moved you to one leg hushing you, he was pleased you wasn't facing him as he couldn't help the triumphant smile as he realized he was your safety net, it was a tiny move but in the right direction. You wanted him to protect you and he wouldn't disappoint. He turned from you and growled low you pushed in to his chest your breath picking up as he looped an arm stroking your hip in small circles as he leaned forward pulling open a drawer next you heard as a click of a gun being cocked.

Instantly Fletcher's new found confidence dwindled and he stood back.

"I'd advise you not to talk to my woman like that, you'll find I'm not very patient when it comes to things like that. You ever raise your voice to her again and it'll be the last thing you'll ever fucking do...Your useless do you understand?...Expendable...And remember its you who fucked up big time...You who caused all this....I don't know weather your worth all the fuss....and I have to ask myself weather you are worth the risk? I mean where does this leave you?.....Bar from finding Stephan your fucking useless now and to be honest I don't think he is going to contact you again...And you royally fucked up,  you let an agent in your business, he knows what you've been doing...or more importantly what you haven't been doing...He also knows that you have ties with me and my...Associates and also thinks that you helped aid me in kidnapping...And that brings us full circle really, now I'm going to have to watch you. Have my men protect your business have the police and judge on my payroll find ways to overlook your cock ups all over again...Its only fair that you compensate me for all my hard work...Or I could end it right here..." Henry moved the gun higher aiming it at the quivering man before him, he was making a show wanting you to see he would never ever let anyone disrespect you or frighten you. He wanted you to know he was the boss and was here for you, that you could run to him and he would always protect you. He wanted to convey so much here and now but as he looked down at you he saw terror...You wasn't ready to see this side of business...You shivered turning to face him noticing his pause, he tilted his head and shushed you kissing your lips softly you closed your eyes tight and moved your hands clutching at his shirt. He sighed looking back up.

"But...I don't want to frighten my little one here...shes had a trying day already so you'll just have to settle for the Vonnie brothers have a go they are back this afternoon." He moved  tilting his hand with the gun checking his watch smirking, as the man tried to move out of the way.

"Two hours? you know what they are like messy brutal but they do get things done...And they do enjoy squealers you definitely fit that bill...Or you can go back the how it was before, nice and simple...so what will it be?" Fletcher just looked between the two of you and nodded.

"I-I will pay... I will tell you if he contacts me or I notice anything" Henry chuckled darkly at that watching in amusement as the man before him slumped looking to the floor giving up the fight defeated. Henry was a snake, you were within his coils before you realized what was happening and then once you were trapped like a rat that is when he decided to strike.

"That’s what I thought. Now fuck off"

within seconds the door shut and you were left in the office with him alone. Still placed on his lap you let out a breath you didn't know you was holding. he shifted you you face him knees spread around his waist ad he pulled you flush against him running his heavy palms up and down your thighs making you tense.

"Apart from your little outburst I am very please with you, such a good girl for daddy aren't you?" You blinked at him then looked to the door again.

"Are you gonna hurt him? When all this is over I mean?" Henry sighed his breath moving your hair.

"That doesn't concern you little one..If you start becoming to nosy I will have no choice but to correct you... You may have agreed to stay but that does not mean your free to do as you please, daddy is still very much in charge and will still spank you when your misbehaving...do you understand little girl?..." You just sighed sniffling you was tired to tired to even try and argue knowing that it would be futile you wasn't going to get any answers from him.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes Daddy"

It had been a week since Fletcher had visited. One week since you’d made the deal and one week days since Stephan had disappeared. You hadn't really been around Henry to ,much over the past week he had lots of meetings and phone calls. From What you could gather he had began changing locations and combing through his empire searching for bugs and stuff. You wasn't sure on details he caught you at the door once and that had swiftly ended with you over his knee in the office being spanked into hysterics then being stood in the corner pinning a penny to the wall with your nose holding your skirt up so he could 'admire his handy work'. You cringed at the memory your bottom tensing at the thought. Apart from that you don't really see him which is a god send in a way he was also to preoccupied with other things to touch you to much. You mainly saw him in the morning and evenings. Hearing raised voices from the office just beyond the sitting room. Henry was shouting at Luke again. No one knew where Stephan was but from what you over heard they had wheedled out another undercover agent, you wasn't sure what happened but Henry seemed pleased with himself over it. Suddenly the door opened and Luke staggered past dead on his feet moving down into the garage. You tilted your head to Henry who stood by the door sighing. He looked relaxed very happy...Maybe this was the time to ask him about it...See if they had any idea of where Stephan was...Who he was? over the past week you couldn't shake your doubts about him and the relationship you'd begun to build. the more you thought about it the more questions you had. And the more you began to question your feelings especially about Henry. It was concerning, you found yourself justifying his actions. You was starting to truly Question if he had taken you to protect you from Fletcher...If Fletcher was willing to sell you for his debt things could have been much worse you if you hadn't gone to Henry... You dread to think where you could be now. He also seemed to want to protect you from Stephan who you decided was just using you for cover and would only end up breaking your heart in the end. You blinked at the screen. The other terrifying reality was you had missed him this past week, you were isolated in this house and without Henry around it was really getting to you. It was late in the afternoon and you had spent the day watching films on Netflix in the living room. Trying to ignore the many questionable men and women coming in and out of the office. You looked at him as nudged Kal away and he took a seat beside you on the sofa rolling his sleeves up his arms.

"Hey love...What are you doing?" You moved the tablet showing him the screen coseying up to him below his arm as it settled across your shoulders, you took a deep breath breathing him in then stopped yourself.

"Watching stuff....Can...Can I ask you something?" he raised a brow at you has hand cupping your shoulder and looked down at you taking a deep breath.

"You can but it just because you ask doesn't mean I’m going to answer.." he finished with a grin then looked down at your face noticing how it had dropped as you swiped your your new tablet back to the home screen.

"Come on little one whats on your mind?" you sighed taking a breath. then face him for a second your breath hitched in your throat sometimes his looks just hit you, making your heart begin to jump in your chest you looked down flushing shaking your head going to flick back on your tablet only for him to cover the screen with his huge hand prying it from you.

"Now now don't be like that love, you remember what does daddy say about pouting?" you flushed again knowing exactly what he wanted to hear, you sighed trying to look down and hide yourself only for him to pull your face up again.

"If I don't stop pouting you'll give me something to pout about.." he nodded giving you a gentle kiss on your head.

"Good girl now tell daddy whats going on in that mind of yours" you sighed and twisted facing him fully. and opened your mouth a few times trying to figure out the best way to bring this up, you didn't want to set him off again you steeled yourself swallowing down your anxiety.

"I-I erm...I just wanted to know if..well I was wondering if you knew just wh-who Stephan was yet is all.." his frame grew rigid he blinked then opened his mouth then decided against what he was going to say, his eyes closed and his jaw clenched trying to compose himself. Then his eyes snapped open harsh and burning trapping your own gaze.Oh shit.

"And why would you need to know that little lady? Are you planning something little one?! Tell me your not still hoping he will come and whisk you away from me?! is that what you want?! for him to come and try to rescue you? to fall in love with that lying little rat?! When you have me?! and I finally have you...You are not going anywhere princess your mine or have you forgotten that?!" you tensed gasping as his voice got deeper carrying more weight with each word. You quickly started shaking as he pulled away from you sitting up taller his eyes grew wild as they darted across your form. You swallowed seeing the frantic madness in him coming to the surface, you needed to pacify him and fast. You leaned forward grasping his knee.

"N-No nothing like that I promise...It's just Ive been thinking a lot over this week..." you grew more worried as your words did not have the desired effect. He growled gripping your bicep holding it tight, you didn't wince or pull away you knew he would read to much into it. instead you sat there before him trying desperately to close the can of worms you had just opened.

"NO! Not like that...Please-Please Daddy I don't mean...H-he lied to me and..and he was using me I know what we hav-HAD wasn't real I-I see that now I just wanted to know who he was, Who he worked for to bring it home...For closure...Then I can move on..I don't want to think of him anymore but I cant stop wondering" that seemed to have helped as he took a deep breath his hard eyes softened and he let his grip on your arms loosen making you sigh in relief.

"Yo-You don't want him to come get you? you know he doesn't love you? he doesn't! he can't no one can love you, not as much as i do you know that don't you? that I love you so so much you are my world,Mine the most important thing in my life" you took a slow breath at his desperate words, his views and words still frighten you and these dark turns are still a worry. But you find yourself able to navigate them easier each time he has one. You swear he is schizophrenic or something, tho not as violent as they had been in the beginning they still happen at the slightest of things. you forced what you hoped was a convincing smile ready to butter him up praying to god this next line helps rather then hinders.

"No...I don't want him to come get me...I'm yours Daddy, your little girl...I agreed to stay here..I'm sorry, I just don't want him to haunt me when I'm trying to move on...With you...Ive missed you." It works, you can see in his face how his eyes sparkle and his jaw hangs slack suddenly your pulled in tight his arms caging you to his massive frame.

"Oh baby girl...Daddy is sorry...I'm so sorry I snapped at you I should have known!.. My precious little one! of course your finding it hard to move on...That boy has really messed with your head huh? tricking you like he did, leading you on...Your okay now I promise I won't let him hurt you ever again" he moved back cupping your face in both hands then kissed your cheeks his gaze was calm full of understanding and wonder. you sighed nodding to him know full well that it was best to agree. he tugged you up onto his thighs with a soft grunt puling you forward, you put your weight on your knees either side of him hovering lightly thee skirt you wore offering no protection from him what so ever. if he noticed your hesitance he didn't comment on it to wrapped up in himself as he tugged you closer making you gasp as your center came into contact with his bulge. You hissed whining as he pressed you harder onto him chuckling making him smile.

"Oh Sweetheart I know...I've missed you two but daddy is doing everything he can so we can stay together...I love you little one and as much as it pains me to be apart from you I do still have an empire to run hmm?" you blushed as he groaned a little moving you by your hips making you rock onto him.

"But fuck baby girl your so hot...I can feel you through my trousers" You gasped clutching his arms trying to make him stop as he let his head fall back bucking up into you coming to life below you. He laughed moving your skirt up your thighs making it rest high and shuffled down leaning back on the soft cushions tugging you down onto his chest by your wrists. He spread his thighs wider the with the sole purpose to force your legs to part further your body slide down his erection now pressing into your lower tummy. Once he had you laid across him he hummed into your ear holding you close before slowly letting a hand slither down your back sliding over your ass and cup the apex of your spread thighs below you. You tensed as he did this trying to pull yourself up.

"Ah Ah shh shh that's it baby don't worry Daddies got you...I wont let you fall love...Oh I know I know princess." you whined as he moved his fingers slowly over you grazing the pads of his fingers across your lips teasing the delicate flesh making you look around the room making sure no one was going to walk in on you. He sighed watching you for a few seconds then tilted your head to him.

"Hey eyes here pet...that's it...I'm sorry I haven't been around but luckily everything is now sorted out and we can spend our days together again...No no look at me princess...that's it good girl" you arched up as his fingers wandered forward capturing your clit in two fingers pulling and rolling it until making your walls flutter to life rocking down and forward unsure if you was trying to dislodge him or move him into a different pattern. he smiled tilting his hand so his thumb ran across your slit as he continued to manipulate your little bud. You twitched trying in vain to close your legs. but your thighs were no match for his as he held firm using one hand to gather your hair tucking it behind your ears as you bit your lip rocking against his wicked hand feeling you coat his thumb as he smeared it across you.

"Ah-AAHH F-fucK! PLease..pleEASE DA-oh god" you closed your eyes as he worked you up into a frenzy your cried gasping choking on air. Pressing the side of your face to his chest panting as he tilted his hand quickly rewarding your weeping center with two thick fingers knuckle deep holding them still. Groaning as your heat swallowed him rippling around him smiling he just kissed the top of your head, you quivered over him panting out small breathy whines. He got to work bringing his other hand to one of your thighs rolling the soft flesh massaging you as he scissored his fingers back and forth inside you. Then he began dragging them in and out making sure to open you up as far as he could with the digits, changing his angle slightly each time pressing on different nerves. You jumped yelping as the pads of his finger tips skimmed the soft patch of nerves that he has become accustom to stroking. He grunted winding his free arm around your waist  then used as much strength as he could, pinning your torso to his own need then quickly started pounding his fingers into that tiny spot of nerves bouncing you faster and faster making your tummy rub him through his own clothes sighed and grunting he started bucking his hips up to you. He hissed closing his eyes concentrating on the sounds you made, from the smallest of gasps as your breath got stuck in your throat to the louder more erotic moans and cries that his fingers forced out of you. He groaned louder joining you making your own duet of lustful cries. he hissed as he tensed his arms your tummy trapping his head between your torsos he moved his wrist hearing the wet slaps of his hand against you in a furious rhythm, definitely ready for another. he added a third finger and began curling them making you arch almost painfully tensing your legs trying to wriggle away from him when they pressed harder and harder to your weak spot.

"AHH UGHFUH-FUCK NOnoOnoOO!...PLease not-NOT HERE PLEASE DADDY!"  he grunted in response a you sat back up only to curl back down into him mouth open over his shirt crying out trembling. Trying to hold your release not wanting to leave any evidence in such a public room in the house. he slowed a little but only for a few short seconds as he moved another finger extending it making every stroke torture as the digit rolled over your taught clit. You clenched trying to hold back but couldn't finally grunting louder than you meant to as you rocked desperately onto his hand tears streaming down your face as your climax made your body cramp , nerves burning and shuddering as he forced you to melt across his hand. panting you  fisted your hands in his shirt shivering whimpering into him trying to catch your breath. he moved his hand away wiping your own release on your back letting it seep through your blouse you blushed and sobbed feeling your own warmth heat your back in puddles.

"Such a good girl...so good for me my love...OH look at all of that hmm? you really have missed me haven't you?..I promise I wont leave you alone this long ever again.." he moved you to sit up with one hand you looked down seeing the clear puddle below you on the floor and sobbed harder shaking your head at him embarrassed.

So wrapped up in your own mortification you hadn't realized what he was doing. his hands crept to his trousers with a few quick tugs ha was free standing tall and proud was quick to guide your hands to his raging erection. you jumped gasping trying to pull away but his grip was tight.

"Shh shh that's it little one...It won't take long here...Just hold it gently like this" he moved your reluctant hand making you grip him at the base then looked at you nodding to your other hand expectantly. You swallowed looking down at him still panting every so often trying to hold your breath. you met his eyes again and he smiled nodding to you.

"Go on...The longer you wait the longer we will be here" you looked down.He was firm and hot in your hand, you could feel his pulse on your palm from the thick veins that climbed across the flesh from root to tip, he was thick your hand felt tiny holding him. Slowly you took a deep breath wanting to get this over with. You just knew he wasn't letting you anywhere with out finishing him off. Moved your other hand to hold him above the other. your reward as a beaming smile. you blinked at him then slowly gave an experimental squeeze making him groan and bring his legs up a little quivering. At first your movements were light, slow then he intervened making one hand grip him tighter moving you faster. Then through his head back praising you closing his eyes.

"Here like thii-OH FUCK!" he swore as you tightened your fist watching your hands as his thick head dripped precum over you hand. It was hard to pull your gaze away forgetting about him as he through his head back moaning loud and grunting into the room. Not willing to miss this he moved his head resting the side of his face on the back of the sofa watching you through half lidded eyes. you blushed when he watched you, not your hands. Your face as you moved faster with both hands. You licked your lip watching his lips form a perfect 'o' then biting his lip as he began moving again thrusting his cock into your palms. You shook your head and paid attention to your hands telling yourself you were watching him to try and see what would help get this over with quicker, but in all honesty you needed a distraction from his handsome fucking face. Watching the way the head of his cock was getting a deeper color going from pink to red and fading fast into purple as you stoked away at him. How his cum came through thicker creamier as you worked it up and down on him. You enjoyed the way he bucking into your hands and clawed at the sofa watching his length slid through your palms finally, just as you thought his crown was going to go blue he swore loud grunting and thrusting into your hands.

"UGH F-FUUUCK YESyesYESFUCK B-BABY DONT STOP! UH UHAAGGH!" his moments through you for a second but you was quick to, on reflex you squeezed him tighter so he wouldn't slip away from your hands making him growl at you as he released across himself. you squeaked as he shot his load drawing a line across your chest making you freeze and cringe. he panted looking to the ceiling in a daze a lazy grin across his lips. You blinked looking around for something to wipe his cum from your top. Before you could move he laughed forcing you to lay down on him again ignoring your protests making you lie flush against him dragging you up to his face as he panted. then moved his face to you neck kissing you.

"Thank you Little one...Daddy really needed that..." you whined against him wanting to run to the shower feeling dirty and sated all in one. he took a deep breath in then stood up slowly on shaking knees cupping your ass then nodded to you.

"Put daddy away and we can go upstairs and have a nice hot bath together...how does that sound baby?" you whined making him raise a brow at you grabbed him quickly but he hissed

"Fuck careful baby you've left daddy sensitive...Play nice...that's it slowly god girl.." slowly you moved his cock tucking it back into place and zipping him up choosing not to delay, the longer it was hanging out the worse you will feel about what just happened and you just wanted to forget the whole thing. he smiled kissing your cheek then moved around the sofa heading up the stairs.

Stephan growled out loud as he walked away from his handlers office. They still said they hadn't got enough evidence on Cavill even with everything he found out about you.or should he say the little he found out about you, you'd been kidnapped by him that much was clear but he couldn't prove it. The closest thing he had to proof was that you hadn't boarded a plane. Coincidentally all cctv of the police station around the time of you and Cavill’s arrival and departure was gone. The paperwork was all gone as he didn't press charges and no arrests were documented on your record , there was no record of his car being impounded either. Someone on the ground as covering for him. Someone high up was on his payroll. So he couldn't help you not only that but his handler was pissed at him, him going off on one had lost them a valuable spot in the investigation he was now benched for a week, stuck on desk duty as punishment for fucking up. He was now to risky to use in the operation and worst of all he couldn't do anything to save you for the time being. He was out unless he could find a rat, someone to double cross Cavill, finding someone that stupid was as rare as hens teeth. So here he was hands tied by bureaucrat bullshit and red tape all because he cared enough to try and find out something, to actually do something!.

He stomped out of the small house being used as the HQ for the sting. And made his way down the road to his new accommodation a cheap b and b on the outskirts of town. Cheap and cheerful and most important of all out of the way.  Threes days....It had been a whole week since he saw you with Henry. The image of you burned into his head. Terrified crying he could see you wanted help and now with how his own investigation had gone down the drain he was afraid that no one not even the collaboration of FBI, CIA and MI5 could save you now, this man. Monster. Was just to cunning, to clean he was ahead of the curve on every aspect and as an agent all he can do for the time being is watch and pray Henry slips up or god only knows what was going to happen to you in the mean time.  

[morwensteelsheen]

Do you have any advice for someone who wants to write Éowyn x Faramir fanfic in a way that remains authentic to who they are/how Tolkien envisioned them? Of all the fics I’ve read on this pairing, yours just stands out to me as being most in character, whether you’re writing them in Middle Earth or a modern!au. I agree with you about Faramir being gentle but NOT a crybaby and Éowyn not a loose cannon and actually somewhat frosty! Any advice you have would be appreciated. Cheers!

bro... 🥺❤️ that is so kind of you, thank you so much!!!! Like holy moly I am going to be riding high on that compliment all week hahaha, i’m giddy thinking about it. 

i’ve been fretting about how to answer this question because i think i still struggle quite a bit with their characterisations. also i’m terrible at framing advice, so i’m going to try and answer this by giving my interpretations of certain things and how that effects how i write about them, and hopefully that will be helpful? also i’m so sorry, this is literally 6,000 words, this totally got away from me. 

To start quite generally, i think it’s super helpful to realise that almost all of the characters in LOTR are devoid of any significant internal life because the book is structured as a retelling of historical events to frodo, which are later written down and then “translated” by tolkien. unless a character is explicitly telling frodo/someone else what they’re thinking, we don’t really know what’s going on in there (except éowyn and i’ll come back to this later). But the other reason we don’t really get a sense of most characters’ internal lives is because they function as, essentially, heroic/fantastical archetypes and responses to other elements of literature. People tend to shy away from this because of this weird postmodern backlash against tropes, but it’s, i feel, extremely important to remember that these characters aren’t in the books because they’re fully-fleshed out human beings, they’re there because tolkien needed characters to fulfil certain narrative roles. this is not a value judgement, but acknowledging that’s what’s going on here is helpful for us as we try to figure out what these characters would be doing when canon doesn’t explicitly tell us what they’d be doing (or what they’d be doing in an au/a rewrite/whatever). 

All this to say: all of these characters are born out of a specific literary and historical context, and i think in the first instance its suuuuuuuupa helpful to go back and figure out what that context is, because it helps you to build out a character profile in your head that feels true to character even when you’re operating in the great canon unknown. 

Okay so for some general thoughts on each of the kiddos:

Éowyn

I’ll start with éowyn because i think i’ve spent the most time thinking about her lately and i feel like i’m finally starting to get in her head a little better. I’m not super confident in my take yet, but it’s getting there, i feel. 

éowyn’s metatextual character history is really fascinating and really important for understanding who she is. éowyn is, essentially, a direct response to the character of lady macbeth and what tolkien saw as a massive disservice to her character at the end of the play. I had a much better pull quote from tolkien talking specifically about that, but i can’t seem to find it right now so you’ll have to use this really brief overview instead — sorry! I will update this if i come across the quote again. 

understanding that foundation in lady macbeth, we can start to ask certain questions about éowyn vis a vis lady macbeth. What are the things that we know — in text — make lady macbeth and éowyn similar? Quite a lot, actually. They’re both ‘fully realised’ women (and i’ll come back to this in a sec), they’re both not naive about the mechanics of power — lady macbeth is a conniver, éowyn is left in control of a whole ass kingdom while the menfolk are away etc —, they’re both hindered by their gender (this is obvious for éowyn, but i HELLA recommend reading lady macbeth’s come you spirits/unsex me here speech and thinking about the relationship between womanhood and violence, especially in light of éowyn’s experience of battlefield violence and later decision to give it up to go be a hippie in ithilien), and they both have to deal with men being frustrating. I love and will defend théoden quite explicitly, but it’s important to realise that he did, in essence, fuck éowyn over entirely and abdiate on his familial responsibilities to her, before you even get to his abdication of duty to the crown etc. 

The other big — very big, i feel — similarity between éowyn and lady macbeth is that they are both tremendously emotionally distant and restrained. But éowyn, unlike lady macbeth, is capable of camouflaging her emotional distance when necessary. Here, from ROTK, is a passage of crucial important to understanding éowyn: 

‘Alas! For she was pitted against a foe beyond the strength of her mind or body. And those who will take a weapon to such an enemy must be sterner than steel, if the very shock shall not destroy them. It was an evil doom that set her in his path. For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die? Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not, Éomer?’

‘I marvel that you should ask me, lord,’ he answered. ‘For I hold you blameless in this matter, as in all else; yet I knew not that Éowyn, my sister, was touched by any frost, until she first looked on you. Care and dread she had, and shared with me, in the days of Wormtongue and the king’s bewitchment; and she tended the king in growing fear. But that did not bring her to this pass!’

‘My friend,’ said Gandalf, ‘you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.

‘Think you that Wormtongue had poison only for Théoden’s ears? Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among their dogs? Have you not heard those words before? Saruman spoke them, the teacher of Wormtongue. Though I do not doubt that Wormtongue at home wrapped their meaning in terms more cunning. My lord, if your sister’s love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips; you might have heard even such things as these escape them. But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?’

Emphasis my own.

there’s a whole hell of a lot going on here, but i’m going to try and boil it down to a couple main things:

1. gandalf and aragorn immediately see misery in éowyn, but they are both very good at reading people. faramir (later, in the steward and the king) also senses the misery, but he is explicitly talented at reading people, and even he takes a while to fully understand what’s going on in her head

2. Éomer, who éowyn feels obligation and duty to (both as her brother, but also her superior in rank) has no idea that éowyn is suicidal. he knows she’s not happy, but he thinks it’s not until aragorn shows up that she finally becomes despondent and is amazed to hear that that’s not the case, to which gandalf responds, essentially: you weren’t meant to know, she was working with a will of steel to hide her emotions from you because she wanted to protect you from it. So éowyn is well versed at controlling her emotions when she needs to, and is not prone to showing them where she doesn’t want to.

3. Gandalf describes éowyn first as wrought from steel (which, short of an incredibly hot fire, is not easy to break), and then amends it to say that she is made of ice. Ice, compared to steel, is far easier to melt. Maybe inadvertently on tolkien’s behalf, i think this speaks to the nature of éowyn and faramir’s relationship — first she is melted by fire (battle, the witch-king, etc) and the she is warmed by the sun (faramir! Minas anor! The winter has passed, etc). 

4. Earlier i said the characters in lotr don’t really have a huge internal life, except for éowyn. This is where that comes in: éowyn, we are supposed to understand, has a really intense internal life, because her mind is really all she has. We are meant to understand that she’s got a lot going on internally, but there is a very specific reason we’re not privy to it. That’s important to think about.

what this does is widen the gulf between what éowyn’s thinking and feeling, and what she’s actually saying and doing. If you’re writing (as i tend to prefer) in a way that deals with her inner life quite intensely, building that gap up is much easier to do. She’s going to have a lot of thoughts, and almost all of them are going to be hindered by either other people’s expectations of her, or her own expectations of herself. And that’s going to cause problems for her — maybe not always throwing-herself-at-death level problems, but certainly problems.  

so there’s that. Then i think there’s a lot to be said for widening the net on éowyn inspirations. I’ve looked to joan of arc (which i kind of hinted at here) quite a bit. I feel like the joan of arc comparison is easy to understand so i wont waste too much time on it, though i will say i’d actually recommend reading catholic interpretations of joan of arc, not later protestant Girlboss interpretations because i think those miss the point of joan of arc entirely. 

I was going to try to comment more on the gender element but i feel like i’m not on great footing with that yet so i will leave that to the side for now.

Faramir

tbh i was kind of dreading getting to this because i still find it exceptionally hard to get into his head, so wish me luck lol 

I’m going to be a total bore and recommend you check out this article. Bear in mind that that was written by a dude at the citadel so it’s going to stray into the realm of Military Brain at points, but i think it’s a worthwhile read anyways. 

ah christ, faramir. okay. cowabunga.

faramir, more so than aragorn, is the platonic ideal of a romantic hero. Both in the genre sense (as in, romance novels) and in the sense of the artistic movement of romanticism, i know i’ve said exactly this before but it’s worth reiterating. I’ll start with the romantic influence and then go onto the romance.

So the romantic movement is a really important intellectual, cultural and political movement, and you will have to forgive me because i am only loosely a modernist and more a contemporary historian, and not at all an expert in literature or art history, so this is going to be, like, a 101 level understanding of what was going on. 

The romantic movement is kicked off as a reaction to both the emphasis on rationality and quantifiability promoted during the enlightenment, and the bourgeois economic revolutions (this is the french revolution, mostly, but the later revolutions across the european continent in 1848 and the kickstarting of the industrial revolution in england). Romanticism was, essentially, a return to intense emotionality, reverence for nature, and appreciation of that which is, ultimately indefinable. Not necessary for writing a fanfic, but reading about the idea of the sublime is kind of a fun rabbit hole to go down if you’ve got time to spare. 

A lot of present day writers will talk about the romantic movement as a break with the past, which is, i guess, kind of true, but is also not really true. The romantic movement — as much as the enlightenment — took its inspiration and logical from classic art and thought. But it interpreted the classics differently to the enlightenment. Whereas the enlightenment era thinkers were fascinated by the rationality and mathematical precision of the greeks and romans, the romantics were more interested in their emotional liberty, and the epic (in the truest sense of the word) shows of emotion and experiences of human life. 

but what does this mean for faramir? A lot! 

The first time we’re introduced to faramir (if not in name) is in fotr, when boromir talks about the destruction of the bridge at osgiliath, when he describes an epic story of war and heroism, wherein only four total people survive swimming from the bridge: two unnamed others, boromir, and faramir. right from the off we know that, if nothing else, he’s not a limp-wristed little lordling, he has the fortitude to survive what few others can. 

Then, barely half a breath later, we get a description of faramir’s premonition, the fact that it came to him repeatedly, and that he immediately volunteered to go blues clues his way through it. We get the sense that he’s a guy who doesn’t back down from a challenge. And then faramir goes away for a while, until two towers, when we meet him again in the brilliance that is ithilien. And here i’m going to go back to our friend from the citadel for some interesting character insight:

the rangers under the command of Faramir are armed with long bows, giving them the capability to wage war over distances greater than most of their foes. This is the same type of warfare deemed cowardly and dishonorable by the chivalric knights, but is far more effective and less perilous than the face-to-face [...] This tactic also reveals Faramir to be a conscientious leader, minimizing the risk to his subordinates while maximizing their effectiveness in battle. Faramir was considerate of the risk he put his men to and sacrificed the idea of glorious face-to-face combat in favor of a weapon system that would be less desirable in the eyes of men such as Boromir, but also much more efficient. [...] Using camouflage and stealth, the warriors un d er Faramir's command set themselves apart from all other military units besides the elves in The Lord of the Rings and ultimately align themselves more closely with the soldiers of modern warfare than with the ancient heroes prevalent in the work of Tolkien. 

Okay enough of the military history because it’s soul-crushingly boring, but the gist is that faramir is, (whatever else he is) a very unique figure. Taking this as a value neutral statement, we get the sense, before we even hear him own to it himself, that he’s a man apart from the rest. I think it’s important also to think about the extent to which he is situated as a part of nature when we first meet him, even if we later know that he is from this big, awful stone city, we are meant to immediately associate him with nature. And not nature in a primitive sense, i’d argue, but nature in the romantic sense, where it speaks to the beauty of creation etc etc etc 

Then there’s the bright sword speech, which im not going to say anything on because cleverer people than me have dealt with it much more efficiently, but i would say that the takeaway from that, besides that he loves peace yada yada yada, is that he likes talking about peace. He has opinions on the war, perhaps even a controversial opinion, and by god, he wants people to know it. So thinking about what that level of immediate and almost impolitic honesty says about him is worth thinking about as you try to write him. 

Later, we get to see faramir in the white city, and what we see is that he’s kind of a drama queen! I say this lovingly, but it does correspond to him going off on one immediately about how the war sucks ass and how he’s above it and how all the other people of middle earth are shit, including his own, and how much better life was In Númenor (which is, essentially, the crux of a lot of romantic poetry. And my headcanon of faramir’s connection to romantic poetry is here). 

The other thing we learn in the white city is that faramir is very aware of himself as a person, and is actively altering whatever his base inclinations are to fit his desired personality. Here’s what i said in a comment on swaddledog’s excellent hearts and minds: 

When Denethor hits him with the "ever your desire is to appear lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle," he's not saying it because he thinks that sort of behaviour comes naturally to Faramir but because he knows he has to work really, really hard at it. I think inherent in that desire is also the failure — he tries, but sometimes he comes up short (often, even — that kiss on the wall wasn't exactly gracious and gentle!), and it's because he sometimes comes up short that Denethor knows it doesn't come naturally to him. And you get that perfectly, just so, so perfectly.

That gap between what faramir thinks he is and whats to be versus what he actually is is very important for understanding him. Though, as i say, i really struggle with writing faramir, so it’s definitely not an easy thing to work into a fanfic. 

I realise i’m probably not articulating this as well as i should, but that’s because dealing with faramir is a tremendous arseache for me, lol. I think basically my advice here is to familiarise yourself with a lot of these romantic figures and try to bear them in mind as you write. pierre bezukhov from war & peace actually fits quite closely to what i imagine young (as in, pre-ring war) faramir is like, with some necessary alterations for canon, and the fact that faramir seems like he’d be slightly more responsible than pierre. And certainly far, far, FAR more confident. 

So that’s the romantic, and then there’s the romance. I saw a post a few months ago that identified faramir as, essentially, a love letter to women. And he totally is: he’s this fucking baller guerrilla warrior who quotes poetry and reads widely and falls in love deeply and sweeps a woman off her feet because he finds her beautiful and incredible and worthwhile even when she’s at her absolute worst. emotional intimacy is real, hallelujah! And so i think any time you’re writing faramir you’re going to have to keep that in mind, because he is this sort of breathless romantic. He’s a character that exists (inadvertently because tolkien couldn’t predict the future) to act, outwardly, as an antidote to the All Men Are Shit mindset. How much you actually keep him on that pedestal is up to you. I like to nuance his character with a bit more chaos, let him be a bit of a shameless flirt in his younger years, let him be so high and mighty in his romantic behaviour that he doesn’t realise that sometime éowyn just wants to fucking chill, that sort of thing. 

There are lots of other character moments that stick out to me that i dont want to say a huge amount about, but will instead link to this incredible meta about faramir’s númenóreaness, with the disclaimer that dealing with that sort of capability in any serious way scares the shit out of me, so i have mostly just Pretended I Can’t Read every time i think about it, except for a super brief reference at the end of this fic. 

Okay onto the meat of this (oh my god, i’m so sorry for how long this is)

Faramir + Éowyn = true love

Before i start, i just want to point out that in terms of seeing their relationship, we only really get it in the steward and the king, which is significant for a lot of reasons. For one because tolkien got a huge amount of shit for how quickly they fell in love (people accused it of being war-bride stuff, which typically was not a great arrangement for those involved) — tolkien himself said ‘shut the fuck up dude’ to that, and this is probably because tolkien married his wife, edith, right before he went off to war. I’ll come back to that in a sec because it’s important. 

The other reason it’s important is because the steward and the king features some of the most consistent lofty and high-fantasy prose of the entire series. Tolkien does this magical thing where he weaves high brow purple prose in with deeply casual, familiar (for the early 20th century) vernacular, and to great effect. And he does this for a reason, he wants to create the sense of this deeply developed, fantastical world that extends well outside the bounds of what we are allowed to see in text while also allowing us the rhetorical space to relate to the characters we see. It is, then, significant that there is almost none of the “low-brow” vernacular speech in the steward and the king. It means tolkien’s got all thrusters on full, so to speak, in terms of the romance. He wants to evoke arthurian romances, courtly/chivalric love, the sort of fated-by-the-stars love that nobody would think to deny because of the time constraints because it seems so abundantly obvious that this love is Meant To Be.

But that’s just what he’s doing tonally. In terms of content, he’s weaving a more complex picture. 

We’ll start with the obvious. Emotionally, both éowyn and faramir are at their worst. Sort of. éowyn’s worst might have been when she did her suicide run on the pelennor in terms of self-destructiveness, but i think her real low point is actually when she wakes up in the HoH, basically immobilized, prevented from dying, and now aware she’s going to have to do the One Thing she refused to do, which is watch everybody she loves go off to die, and then sit about and wait for her own death. faramir, meanwhile, went off to a hopeless battle (expecting to die) after mouthing off at his father, then wakes up to find out he’s not only alive, but the only surviving member of his family (for some reason! because don’t forget gandalf is very clear that he shouldn’t find out about denethor’s death until Later), is now the fucking steward of gondor, and also this mythical king is Back. also he too has to sit around and wait for death. So emotionally neither of them are doing too great. 

Their first impressions of one another are very important. 

faramir, of éowyn: “and he turned and saw the Lady Éowyn of Rohan; and he was moved with pity, for he saw that she was hurt, and his clear sight perceived her sorrow and unrest.”; “He looked at her, and being a man whom pity deeply stirred, it seemed to him that her loveliness amid her grief would pierce his heart.”

So he knows who she is, and he can see that she’s physically hurt, but also can see she’s feeling all kinds of fucked up. And the first emotion he feels is pity. He’s assessing her in terms of pain and sorrow, and all of these sorts of emotions éowyn seems desperate to divorce herself from. And he offers her pity. That’s significant. 

éowyn, of faramir: “she looked at him and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and yet knew, for she was bred among men of war, that here was one whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle.” 

She doesn’t know who he is, not really, but she does immediately think he could kick ass. And that’s her first and only real assessment of him. That’s also significant. 

And éowyn is miserable, and she’s so miserable she’s actually willing to openly talk about if (if only to a limited extent) and faramir does what is, I think, one of the most incredible things in the entire book. He functionally disarms her, lets her down gently, and places them on equal footing with a single joke:

‘What would you have me do, lady?’ said Faramir. ‘I also am a prisoner of the healers.’

There’s merit in interpreting this straight, but I actually think it's quite funny to relate the safety and security of a hospital in wartime to a prison, to a cage. And I think tolkien’s aware of this, and not really intending us to read it straight. What this does is soften éowyn up enough that she asks for what she wants, but also seems to make her more interested in dealing with him, even if she reacts badly to his compliment of her. 

And then they fall in love, and whatever. The chapter’s there, there’s a million fanfics out there about it, whatever. 

But faramir’s proposal is Big, and deserves thought for what it says about their relationship. People like to bitch about it because they take it to mean that éowyn has had to change all this stuff about herself, give up her desire to be a firebrand or whatever to go off and be a lovely prince’s wife in this noble hippie commune over those hills yonder. I think that’s totally wrong.

I think what’s going on in faramir’s proposal and éowyn’s response is a really fascinating illumination of the accord they’ve reached with one another through their (admittedly brief) courtship. Here’s why:

First, faramir tries to approach the conversation with a bit of subterfuge. Not in the weird negative way, just in that he’s not hitting it head on at the start. He obviously still doesn’t understand what’s going on inside her head fully, so tries to ask around the question (‘why aren’t you at the cormallen?’) instead of asking the question he’s obviously interested in. éowyn has no time for this, and tells him to nut up or shut up. And he does! 

But then there’s this line: 

But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten.

Two things going on here: one, faramir’s rescinding his initial emotional reaction. He felt pity for her, but has now come to know her well enough that he realises she doesn’t need pity, and isn’t dumb enough to try and force it on her. But the second thing, almost more important, is that he assesses her in the terms that she prefers, which is that she has won herself renown and has shown her valour. These are not the things Faramir values, we know this, that’s the whole point of the bright sword speech. But they are the things éowyn values, and he loves her, and is willing to acknowledge what her desired self image is. That’s a huge concession she’s won off him, that’s big. 

And then éowyn responds:

I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.

here’s my potentially controversial take. I don’t think she’s giving up on her desire to be a fighter of some sort, but she’s giving up on some specific traditions, which is that of the mythical (but, let’s be clear, functionally nonexistent, save for éowyn) shieldmaidens, and of the riders of the Mark, who, as we have been told throughout the books, are given to valorising warfare and martial acts above all. This is supported by her saying “nor take joy only in the songs of slaying.” she’s not saying she won't take any joy in it, or that she won’t still praise it when it earns her admiration, but that’s not going to be her only raison d’etre anymore. Her life is going to move beyond the realm of death and killing and battlefield survival to growth and life and the future. That’s also a concession on her behalf. 

And then there’s this hella romantic kiss on the walls, which is fucking brazen behaviour, but is also i think representative more of the unique situation than setting a trend for them. It is, i think, the positive equivalent of éowyn’s slaying of the witch king in terms of its uniqueness. In the same way that she’s not going to keep going around throwing herself headlong into fights she’s not meant to win, she’s also not going to be publicly playing tonsil hockey. This is the big moment, and then it’s back to the reserve from there. 

Really, their entire relationship is, to me, about a series of negotiations. One culture and another, wives and husbands, old and new, war and peace, life and death, etc. they are similar in a lot of ways — both are intensely headstrong — but they’re similar primarily in character, not necessarily in belief, and so much of what they’re going to have to do as a pair is work to find their harmonious accord, if that makes sense. Sometimes they’ll do it peaceably, sometimes they’ll have blow up fights, but their entire relationship is going to be predicated on negotiating the space between, if that makes sense? 

Okay i said i’d say some stuff on the relationship of tolkien and his wife edith to faramir and éowyn. Tolkien was adamant that they were beren and lúthien (that’s on their tombstones), and i’m full willing to grant him that. But i think it’s complicated by the fact that faramir is, in some senses, tolkien’s self-insert. Obviously authors can have stand-ins for their opinions without the character having to be them exactly (and i think there’s more merit certainly to saying that tolkien’s 100% self-insert is tom bombadil) but i think there’s something worth exploring to the connections between beren and lúthien and faramir and éowyn. I know the morality issue makes B+L more closely comparable to arwen and aragorn, but, as I argue for here, the mortality issue (or lifespan issue) isn’t totally alien to faramir and éowyn.  

As i write them, there are some core themes i’m pretty consistently thinking about, so i’ll just list em here in case that’s any help to you.

Family 

This would be: life after orphanhood, life as the last of a family, what your obligation to your family is, how you go on and have your own family after having had a less than ideal childhood, etc.

Duty

Here’s what I said about their differing approaches to duty in a now-abandoned draft chapter from willow cabin:

Faramir has said, not in as many words, that she should not begrudge him for following orders. This, she knows, is a crucial difference between them. They each hold duty above all other charges, but their interpretation of what exactly that means is different. It comes from the differences in power they wield: he has ever been empowered to change the course of decisions before they are made, while she is forced to react to them after. To him, then, it would be unreasonable to disobey direct orders, given that a failure to change them in advance is a reflection upon his skills, not the legitimacy of the command. She, however, has rarely had control over how and when orders are given, and so sees no inherent legitimacy to them, and thus no reason not to disobey orders that are unjustly given.

Time

As I alluded to above, éowyn is going to live a significantly shorter life than Faramir, and she is no doubt very aware of this. But this also means that they’re going to experience time differently, and that will have an impact on their behaviour. What might seem like foot-dragging to éowyn seems like impatience to faramir, etc

Healing

We never actually see faramir’s reaction to finding out denethor tried to burn him alive. That’s a lot. We have no idea if he knows when he proposes to éowyn. When does he find out? What does that do to his mood? Etc. but also, éowyn says she’ll become a healer — what does that really mean? Is she going to be nurse/doctor éowyn from now on? Will she broaden the definition of healing (for my part, i say yes, which is what i’ve been trying to do in willow cabin, though a little less successfully than i’d hoped)

Gender

This is a slightly less popular theme in the bookverse fics, but i think as part of éowyn and faramir’s relationship of negotiation, they’re going to have to deal with éowyn not feeling one hundo thrilled about being a woman. And i think that raises some interesting questions about what faramir’s response to that will be. men/manhood is often treated as the historical default — so what happens when someone like, say, éowyn, starts challenging the notion of gender and gender roles around faramir? How does he react? What does that do to his own self-image? Etc. 

Okay. yes. That’s all i can think of right now. I am so, so sorry this is so long, i just totally brain dumped there. If you have any questions at all though please please do hit me up and i’m super happy to read whatever you’re writing (literally gagging for farawyn content rn lmao), if you’re comfortable sharing etc.

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 33: Scolded

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 33: Scoldedby C_R_Scott Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius, Kaidan (Elder Scrolls) Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Tim Drake-centric, Trope: It sucks to be the chosen one, Trope: Trapped in another world, Trope: Kidnapped by the Call

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary:

Back in Gotham as Red Robin, Tim operated quite often under the generalization that "...it is better to ask forgiveness than permission." Unfortunately for him, Lucien does not share that sentiment in the least.

"I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU! OF ALL THE IRRESPONSIBLE THINGS YOU COULD'VE DONE LAST NIGHT!"

Tim winced as Lucien snapped at him with as fierce a glare as he'd ever seen on the face of the usually even-tempered scholar.

"I'm honestly not sure what I'm more angry about. The fact that you ended up picking a fight with the Thalmor after you promised me you wouldn't, or that you went traipsing off looking for trouble in the middle of the night without telling me!"

Tim dared to meet Lucien's gaze with a glower of his own. "I heard someone in trouble! Kaidan was being tortured by those Thalmor bastards! I couldn't just leave him in that prison to rot! And I left you a note--"

At the mention of the note, which was crumpled in the scholar's fist, Lucien's glare sharpened. The paper ignited in his hand, startling Tim.

"--And I promise I won't do 'that' to you ever again," Tim quickly added, holding his hands up in surrender. "Next time I decide to go 'traipsing off looking for trouble in the middle of the night' I'll wake you up properly so you can yell at me first." The younger man sighed and raked his fingers through his hair before finally looking at Lucien apologetically. "I'm really sorry I worried you, Lucien. That wasn't my intention."

The scholar held his glare over Tim for a moment, before breaking it to turn his eyes skyward with an exasperated sigh as he release his fistful of ashes. "Timothy... I know you mean well, and compulsively helping others in trouble is something that you can't seem to stop yourself from doing, but seriously you need to be more careful with your own life!" 

Tim opened his mouth to say something, but Lucien held up a hand to stop him. "No, you listen! You... Well... Oh damn it all! How can I put this!" Lucien crossed his arms and tapped his foot as he gathered his thoughts. Finally, he looked up at Tim and locked gazes with him.

"There's a storm brewing here in Skyrim," he finally said, a dead serious tone to his voice. "Clouds are gathering, signs of change are on the wind, and for some reason which neither of us can fathom you--" he reached out with one finger and poked Tim's chest. "--are being dragged into the center of this potential hurricane, whether you like it or not.  Dragons have returned for the first time in ages, and you've been publicly summoned by the Greybeards as a Dragonborn."

"I never wanted-- I don't want to be this Dragonborn! I just want to find a way back home!" Tim argued back with frustration.

"I know, Timothy," Lucien said sympathetically. "But I don't think the Gods are giving you a choice on the matter." At the stricken look Tim suddenly gave the scholar, Lucien added quickly. "At least, not until we figure out why you were brought here from your homeland in the first place. Someone or something brought you here for a reason. If we can figure out what that is, perhaps once your 'task' is completed we'll be able to get you back home."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Great... Not only am I stuck in Tolkien hell, but apparently I'm on a journey to see the wizard now too," he muttered sullenly. "All I'm missing is a dog, a lion, and a yellow brick road. What I wouldn't give for a pair of ruby slippers right now..."

Lucien sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, not having a clue about what Tim was talking about. "Hopefully the Greybeards will have some insight into why you're here. But this means we need to keep you alive and in one piece until we get to them. Dead men don't learn anything, no matter if you're man or mer."

"You're Dragonborn?"

Lucien and Tim looked over at Kaidan, who had volunteered to help pack up their camp while the two of them were sorting out their conflict. Tim wilted visibly under the wide-eyed, almost awestruck gaze of the newest member of their travelling party.

"Not by choice," he replied, not even bothering to mask the bitterness in his voice.

Kaidan watched as Tim gathered up his own gear. "So a few days back... when that voice like thunder shook everythin' like an earthquake... That was the Greybeards summonin' you?"

"You heard it?"

"Aye. Was loud enough it shook that prison the Thalmor were holdin' me in and sent them scurryin' like roaches to figure out what it was. Afforded me a nice break from their 'hospitality' that day." Kaidan then looked to Lucien. "So sounds like you need some help keepin' this one alive?"

"Divines yes," Lucien muttered. "It's growing increasingly clear to me that Timothy is notoriously bad at self-preservation."

"Hey! I resent that remark!"

"Why? On the grounds that it's too accurate?!"

Tim winced. "Ow! Harsh!"

"Yes... Harsh," Lucien said as he hoisted his own bag onto his back before glaring at Tim. "But not inaccurate!" He started off towards the main road.

Kaidan couldn't help the smirk playing on his lips as he followed after the scholar. "By the way, the name's Kaidan."

Lucien managed a small smile at the swordsman and nodded. "Pleasure to meet you Kaidan. My name is Lucien Flavius. So glad to have you aboard. Another set of eyes to keep this one out of trouble will be most welcome."

Kaidan chuckled. "Well I kinda owe him my life. Only fair I help preserve his."

"Excellent! I think we'll get along just fine then!"

Tim watched the two banter back and forth as they walked ahead of him. Then he sighed and followed after. This was going to be a long trip.

--- NOTE:

Took a bit of a break from writing this series. Got some new story ideas that needed fleshing out elsewhere, had to do some migrations of old stories from other websites to AO3 for posterity's sake, and of course real life got in the way a number of times over the past month. But now I'm back. I've got a few other WIP projects in the works right now, so I'm going to be juggling a bit. However, I'm honestly happier with writing than I have been in quite some time.

Going to be carving out some time to play Skyrim and get Tim and his party over to Ivarstead this week. We'll see how this journey goes...

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#kaidan skyrim#afewnovelideas

[thekisforkeats]

An Avatar No More (Let All the Broken Pieces Shine, Chapter Three)

Info: The Magnus Archives, D&D AU. JonMartin, more ships to be added. Rated T. Post-Canon. Jon is amab nb and uses they/them, Martin is a trans guy.

CWs: Character death (mentioned), character injury (mentioned), body transformations, birds, sacrifice (sort of, I mean, everyone lives) 

Summary: Jon is a warlock who thinks they're a druid, and they're finally meeting their patron. Well, their original patron, not the nasty Watcher that tricked them into ending the world, that guy's a jerk and we have no truck with him.

Avatar powers or no, Jon will yell at eldritch beings to protect Martin because they need their tea-making poet alive and well, dammit.

——————————————————-

First Chapter Previous Chapter

Jon wakes to a world that looks as if it’s had all the color leached out, all blacks and whites and grays. Martin’s arms are still around them, holding them, but not as tightly as they dimly recall from before.

Martin seems to be asleep, his expression pained and his breathing shallow. He is vibrant despite the lack of color, standing out from his surroundings, almost verging into sepia rather than mere monochrome. Jon, too, seems almost as vibrant though perhaps not quite as much so.

There is a nip of cold in the air, and that by-now familiar feeling of being watched.

Jon slowly disentangles themself from Martin’s grasp, doing their best not to wake the sleeping man. They can see, and that is odd--didn’t Martin stab them in the eye? Eyes? They can barely remember, everything after stepping into the Panopticon is a blur except the conversation with Martin, as though the words were somehow burned into their memory while all other sensations faded during the trip to wherever they are now.

They take a moment, blink slowly, press their hands gently to their eyes. And yes, they have eyes, and there’s no blood on their face, and now that they look there’s no scars on their hands, either. No burn marks on the right hand, no worm scars on either one. Their skin is whole and unblemished.

This bothers them more than, perhaps, it ought.

They sit up and look around to take a greater survey of their surroundings. Jon and Martin are on the balcony of a large fortress set on the edge of a cliff in whatever this strange realm is. The sky above is an inky black, devoid of sun or moon or stars, and the landscape beyond the balcony is bleak: jagged mountains behind and a flat plain dotted with twisted spires below.

It occurs to them that it might be reasonable to assume they're in Hell.

“That’s… disconcerting,” Jon says aloud, as much because they are used to narrating their life as to hear the sound of their own voice. They stand, slowly, checking to see if there is a room attached to the balcony. Usually balconies are attached to chambers, though with Hell, it’s possible that this will be another level of torment: impractical architecture.

The balcony turns out to be just an extension of a room with no doors or outer wall. The room is shrouded in darkness, but it looks... big… ish? With maybe a table and some chairs and some sort of dias beyond that?

Jon leans down to place a hand on Martin’s cheek briefly before they begin to move into the room. “Rather spacious if… empty accommodations for a Hellscape.” Again they're speaking partly for their own benefit, but the darkness of the room is deep enough to hide someone who might respond if they speak.

And then there is indeed a voice, coming from the shadows around the dais: “This is not Hell. That place is rather more… torturous for mortals to exist in.” The voice seems… vaguely female, but with a strange, almost croaking sort of undertone.

“Ah, there you are.” Jon starts looking around for the source of the voice. “That’s good to know, that we are not dead. I take it you are who we have to thank for that? Since this is your domain.”

As Jon moves into the room, the shadows seem to shift and a form appears sitting on a large chair on the dais, pretty much a cowled cloak. It would be spooky if Jon weren’t becoming inured to these things.

“Oh, no, you are quite dead,” the voice replies from the depths of the cloak. “He is not, yet, but he will be soon enough.”

Jon looks back toward Martin, who looks to be in more pain and maybe a little less vibrant than he was. “Stop that!” they shout. They move back to Martin and kneel down, running their hands over the taller man’s hair, trying to soothe him. “Save him!”

Martin relaxes at the touch, but only slightly. He still looks pained, troubled.

The voice from the cloak says, “I have done nothing to him. He chose to follow you through the gates of death, and so… he is dying.” There is an odd level of unconcern in her voice. Not malice, per se, and not indifference, but rather what one might expect from an avatar of the End, regarding someone dying.

“And you can’t do anything?!” The indifference in the voice angers Jon. How dare this cloaked wannabe Grim Reaper just ignore their plight? And though they might not admit it, they have become used to getting their way in most things, to having power to shape the world as they wish. “This is your world; insulate him from the ravages of its effects!”

“Why should I?” The voice is more curious than malicious. “I have no hold nor tie to him; where once he belonged to Araushnee, in this form he belongs more to Oghma, or perhaps Sune, and I have little truck with either.”

“Because he is important to me!” Jon hisses, still keeping contact with Martin. “And you clearly have some attachment to me or I wouldn’t be here. Is that not enough, or are you so detached from all compassion as to not understand the intricacies of companionship?”

The figure moves out onto the balcony and Jon can see it now, cowled and hooded, with a glimmer of light from within the hood: eyes, maybe. “I understand compassion. And I understand companionship. And I understand that the latter has rarely led to much but tragedy, when pursued too fervently.”

The woman(?) looks down at the two of them. “He will not fade from your view. He will become part of this place, and if you are so concerned I will take him into my employ. You will be able to see him still, between the work I have for you to do.”

Of course. Some new eldritch horror expects Jon to work for them without even knowing what they're getting into. Lovely.

Jon stands, placing themself between the cowled figure and Martin. “No. You will save him and ensure that he lives. He didn’t sacrifice himself just to be controlled by another one of you.” They are shaking with both fear and rage. “You want my help, fine. Another Eldritch power wants my hands for its machinations…” They laugh. “What else is new? But he deserves better. Name a price for his survival and freedom, and I will pay it.”

The eyes under the hood seem to narrow. “There is a way to save him, to give him life enough to survive here and to survive the journey you are yet to take. But it would require…” A pause, a deep, heavy sigh. “I had thought to give you more time as something you would still recognize as… yourself.”

The woman gestures, and a mirror appears, so that Jon can see just exactly what she means.

The mirror allows them to see colors, but only in the mirror itself. Jon still wears the clothing they'd been wearing in the Panopticon (and much longer before that), and they look… themself, they're short and slim, their skin dark, but their eyes have become shining gold. Their long black hair shimmers now, and their ears are… pointed? Yes, elongated and pointed, and they realize their form is even slimmer than they remember, now that they look closely.

They appear to be, for all the world, an elf.

Jon puts a hand to their ears to see if it is real. How had they missed that, while trying to be sure they were whole and alive? “What? What… happened to me? You turned me into an elf? Like Tolkien? Why?”

“Tolkien…?” There’s a pause, as if the woman is accessing information; it reminds Jon, oddly, of themself. “Ah. No. I have done nothing, really; this is what you were before you went to that world. You have become something like what I once was, Tel-quessir. I believe in the common parlance the term is ‘sun elf’ or ‘high elf.’” Galadriel more than Legolas, then.

Jon tries to make sense of what the woman is saying as they take stock in the mirror but they can’t understand more than rudimentary levels. They truly had come to rely on Knowing as a crutch. “Went to that world? What you once were?” More questions than answers, and little is more irritating to them. They return their attention to the cloaked figure. “And this has what to do with saving Martin?” That is what’s important right now, after all.

The woman’s words become suddenly clipped. “You were mine. From birth, you sought out new stories, new experiences, new memories, as many as you could find, to bring them back here when you died. A spark, a soul sent into the dark, to try to expand my reach to the other worlds. And, I admit, to try to bring balance to a world so overrun with evil; an attempt at a ray of good to balance that out.” A pause. “I suppose it succeeded, mostly, if only by spreading that evil out into the realms. But the powers there, they tried to… claim you. The Spider, the Watcher…”

There is a rustling under the cloak, a sound of many wings. The voice rises, angry. “And then the Watcher stole you from me, to carry out its perverse warping of your world! It would not do, but you already had the means to combat what the Watcher tried to make you, Archivist. And so, here you are. And yet, you do not even know who you truly are.”

There is more rustling of wings beneath the cloak. The woman is clearly angry.

“Wait… you’re saying I’m from here… originally? Not human?” Jon touches their ear again, a nervous gesture. “And I was your agent… meant to be your eyes and ears until Jonah Magnus…” They have to stop, the anger that rises in them is so great, “did what he did.”

Jon’s tone turns insistent, and they wish they could still compel answers. “Then tell me. What am I? What are you? Feathers, a cloak, pinpoints of light that could be eyes. Do you have a name?”

“You are not from here,” the woman says, and her voice has become… melancholy. “We were from a place of light and beauty, once. It is my fault that you came here, but you never complained, before. And you were never meant… that ritual was never meant to happen. I never meant you to experience… any of what the Watcher made you do. But at least now the pain of all those you encountered is catalogued, and perhaps in time, they can be cleansed of the pain and know peace.”

Another deep sigh. “As for what I am…” The rustling intensifies, and then suddenly the cloak explodes into shadow. Beneath is not a woman at all--beneath is a massive collection of ravens. They fly around Jon, all flapping wings and eyes, and one in particular--the one with the eyes they've been seeing under the hood--seems to hover in the air in front of them. It speaks in a voice that booms off the nearby mountains:

“I AM THE RAVEN QUEEN.”

Jon stumbles back a bit, and narrowly manages to avoid falling on top of Martin. They haven't been this terrified since… what, since before the Change? Since well before the Change. But terrified they are. “A-an-and I’m… I’m… o-one of your… servants… and extension of you… one-one-one of… of… those?” They gesture at the ravens flying about them.

The ravens settle all around the balcony, and the one that has been speaking stays where it is, as if to give them space. “No. I told you--what you are now is what you were one, long ago, before… before my failed attempt to become a goddess and stop the conflict between Corellon and Araushnee failed.”

She sighs, and her voice is full of ancient, terrible sadness. “You came to me and offered your help to stop that conflict. You gave much of your life and essence to try to fuel the ritual, along with many others. Like them, you believed in our cause. The gods were warring, and it had to be stopped, or the Tel-Quessir were doomed to split apart forever. We would save the Tel-Quessir from the doom we foresaw. I would travel to Arvandor, gain the attention of the gods, and stop the war.” A long sigh. “I was a fool, and it was all of you who paid the price.”

Jon is starting to put the pieces together. “So… in order to save Martin, what do I have to do? Give up this… essence again? Return the restoration you bestowed on me? Become something else? Something that can still be your hand, but different?”

The raven cocks its head in almost a nod. “This is what you were, before my failed ritual. This is what I purified you into becoming again so you could go to the place where last you lived. I had wanted to give you time as this again, a lifetime of reward for your service, but…” The raven looks to Martin. “You have brought your reward back with you, I see. You always did prize love above so much else.”

“In order to save his life, I must siphon off yours. Return him to what he is, and perhaps allow him to be more, something closer to what he was long, long ago. And return you… to what you were. Shadar-kai. Shadow fey.” A pause. “It is not pleasant. The color will leech from you, even in the living world. The shadows will cling to you. In the living world you may look young and fresh, but here you will see your true state: cursed, aged, withered.”

The raven gives a long, deep sigh. “You may say that you will endure all of that and more to save your lover, but you will lose many of the emotions that now drive you. You will be bitter and grim. Others will see you as cold and pitiless. Most of my people who go out into the world care little for their physical bodies; they know they will return here, and be reborn. Some embrace physical pleasures, others test their limits, and some strive for glory in their lives.”

“You… never did much of any of that. You were usually content to watch, to listen, to study, and to bring me back what you found. You played tricks, sometimes.” Is the raven… amused? Yes, by the glitter in its eye, it is. “You have always retained your sense of humor, regardless of everything else.” The amusement fades. “But you may lose your love for him. Even if you do not--even if it is the one thing you cling to--he may lose his love for you, on finding you so horribly changed.”

Jon looks over their shoulder at Martin for a moment and then back to the raven before them. “Done. It may be as you say, but he’ll be alive. And that’s what’s important.” They sigh. “He has to survive. He’s given up too much to not survive. Do it.”

The ravens all flock back into the form they’d been in before and the shadows warp around it like a hood and cowl once more. The Raven Queen nods--or seems to--and sighs. “Very well.” She reaches out with one “hand” to Jon and the other “hand” to Martin’s sleeping form

A bright white light begins to flow out of Jon and into Martin. Jon doesn’t feel lessened so much as different, as though the shadows here seep in to replace the light that flows out. They can see the color fade from their form in the mirror. Their skin becomes a pallid grey, their eyes become wholly black--no pupil, no sclera, something far more befitting the avatar they became. And they do, indeed, twist and wither and age, though they feel no less strong and vital.

And Martin… wakes up.

Next Chapter

[huntertales]

Part Two: Wicked Witch of the West. (Slumber Party S09E04)

Episode Summary: The reader and the boys call in I.T. expert Charlie Bradbury to help track fallen angels with technology found in the Men of Letters bunker. However, they soon discover something more in the form of the one and only Dorothy from Wizard of Oz. Everyone joins forces to take down the Wicked Witch and her evil plans. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,020.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

There was nothing more you loved than curling up with Dean in bed to enjoy a little bit of TV and enjoying one another’s company. Sam offered up his room for all of you to stream the show, you took a wild guess that it was because the man was afraid to step into his brother’s room to see a wild assortment of leftover food growing new forms of mold. You reassured him you made sure all half-eaten meals were thrown away and everything was kept in a tiddly order. He reminded you that his room was the one with the TV. And your bedroom was a mere disaster of still unopened boxes from your house and clean clothes thrown around in a manner you swore was organized. All of you settled on the offer and enjoyed a few episodes of the TV series you had heard so much about. 

The bowl of popcorn shared between you and Dean had nothing left but kernels after munching through the episodes that kept your attention with its enjoyable plot and characters. You sipped the remaining mouthfuls of your beer as Dean slid his hand from around your waist and reached for the remote to pause the screen after nearing the end of the final episode on the DVD. 

"Wow. That Joffrey's a dick." Dean felt the need to declare his hatred for a character you had grown to despise yourself from his childish and downright horrific behavior. You didn't think you ever had more of an urge to jump through a TV screen and strangle a fictional character more than you had for that blonde headed bastard.

"Oh, you have no idea. Wait until he—" Charlie smiled at the upcoming plot details you and Dean might want to hear about that would happen in the next season. Before she could get a single word out, the young Winchester promptly stopped her from spilling any details.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Spoilers." Sam warned the redhead. "I haven't read all the books."

"You're gonna read the books?" Dean asked his brother. He didn’t see the point of wasting one’s time reading a fictional version of the same media you could consume in a live action version, no mental imagery required on his part.

You shook your head from the point the older man was missing. Books were not always like the live adaptations. The plot might have been the same from the beginning, but TV versions often strayed from the original material to make their own spin and give the characters new journeys. The reader was able to picture the characters described by how the author saw them and not how the actors were chosen for the role. There was no greater disappointment to a reader when someone chosen turned out to be the opposite of what you spent pages imagining in your head. Not to mention the author was still writing the novels as the show aired. You tried getting yourself into the book until you ultimately failed trying to find interest. You gave the first one to the younger WInchester in hopes he would enjoy them. 

"Yes, Dean. I like to read books—you know, the ones without pictures." Sam shot back with a sarcastic comeback to strike his brother silent. 

You took it upon yourself to finally relieve the ache in your back that started to creep up on you while you were halfway through the fourth episode. You let out a long, drawn out sigh of relief after you got back up to your feet. “Ooh. I have never loved you for talking to me into getting that memory foam mattress more than I do now.” You said to your boyfriend. The price tag made your eyes widen from how expensive it was. In reality you didn’t spend a single penny. And you slept better than you had in a long while. You rubbed your lower back and stretched slightly to make yourself stop feeling twice your age. “I don’t know how you sleep on that thing Sammy.” 

"You're not kidding. This bed is about as comfortable as a brick." Charlie got up from the chair she had been sitting on and switched to the edge of the mattress. She bounced a few times to discover it was painful as it looked. You smiled and leaned against the desk to change up the scenery. Charlie glanced around the room, taking notice of the fifties style attire with not much updated touches to make it personal. "Any plans on moving in anytime soon?"

"I am moved in." Sam said. "This is just my style."

"Yeah, this is style. Old man." You agreed. You took a look around the room yourself to see he didn't do much to give it the Sam Winchester touch except for cleaning out the several decades of dust. He didn't even try to put any effort to make it his own. "You would've really fit into the fifties aesthetics, Sammy. Fifty shades of brown and endless plaid."

"Well, I'm sorry I haven't hung up the 'Hang in there, kitty' poster yet, Y/N. Feel free to redecorate." Sam didn’t like the sarcastic jokes you were saying on his behalf. You rolled your eyes from how he was behaving all of a sudden. "Tell me again how your moving process is going.”

"I'll get there eventually. At least I'm making some kind of effort to make it mine." You said. It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes from your half-hearted excuse. "Are you saying our home's not good enough for the 'Hang in there, kitty' poster?"

"This isn't our home." Sam corrected you. "This is where we work."

You tightly furrowed your brow from the way he was acting. "What's the difference?"

You waited for Sam to give you a reason why he didn't think the bunker was just that, a home. He was the one who helped you persuade Dean into staying here permanently after discovering it for yourself. You thought he would have embraced it with open arms from everything this place had to offer. For once he had a home to call his own. Something that fits him perfectly from the life all of you lead. No one to take it away, no real chance of a monster sneaking in here. You hoped he might have been able to find some sort of comfort here. But it seemed the younger Winchester didn't feel the same way you and his brother did. To say it came as a surprise would have been an understatement. 

Charlie looked between you and the younger Winchester when the both of you did nothing more than stare at one another for a few seconds. It was as if the two of you were waiting for the other one to say something to keep this conversation-turned argument going. You and Sam remained silent. The redhead didn't realize she had triggered such a touchy subject. She shifted her gaze and mumbled something underneath her breath, a weak attempt at trying to relieve the brewing awkward tension.

“All right, well, I'm gonna go get us some more beers.” Dean said, getting himself up from the bed and making his way to the door. ”How about that?”

You polished off your beer when Dean shut the bedroom door behind him, leaving the three of you alone. You set the empty bottle down on the desk and quickly spoke up, not wanting the mood in the room to shift into a subject you didn’t want to discuss while your friend was staying here. 

"So, Charlie," You struck up a conversation you had been meaning to bring up since you heard about the redhead's solo adventures. "what was that all about how hunting isn't magical?"

"Saving people, hunting things, the family business? I am down. But..." Charlie trailed off, making you and the younger Winchester share a curious expression to her hesitance about seeing what hunting was really all about. "I was raised on Tolkien, man. I mean, where is all of this?" She held up the DVD she grabbed to make her point about what she had really been searching out there for. "Where are my white walkers and my volcano and magic ring to throw in the damn thing? Where...Where's my magic quest?"

"Magic, quests...suck. Trust us." Sam scoffed. You had to agree with the younger man about that point. Both of you dealt with your version of fate and quests. It all mapped out to a miserable ending. "They're all dead ends.”

Charlie's shoulders slumped at the possible reality she might have to come to terms with. The few times she had been able to work on a hunt with the three of you had turned out to be sort of fun,  minus the physical and emotional trauma she endured. Charlie was searching for a spark that steamed from a childhood daydream of fighting dragons and saving the princess. An urge that didn’t come along in this kind of lifestyle. 

The supernatural and magic might be real like it was in the books she read, but it was vastly different from the fictional counterparts. It was darker. Scarier. Charlie couldn’t help but find the light in every bad situation. You had a feeling she was going to keep looking for her quest. You were a firm believer everyone had a role to play in life. She had yet to find hers. 

+ + +

The four of you decided to check on the progress of the files Charlie had been downloading to her tablet after giving the progress more than enough time. You made your way down to the control room to see everything was how you left it at first glance. It was when you made your way closer to the outdated machines was when you noticed something was strangely off. You slowed down your pace and looked straight ahead at the strange substance on the wall behind the shelf. You knew for sure it hadn’t been there before. 

“What the hell?” Dean muttered under his breath. The boys approached closer to the shelf as you stayed behind near Charlie as she reached for her tablet to check on things. "Sam give me a hand."

You placed your hands on your hips and watched as the brothers pushed away the shelf out of the way, revealing something you had never seen before. Almost the entire wall was covered in a grayish color cocoon. You were tempted to poke at the substance to see what it felt like in order to figure out what it might be, but your squeamish disgust kept your feet planted where they were. Dean took out a knife from his pocket and slid the blade through the substance, cutting deep enough of a makeshift entrance to discover what might be hiding inside. You weren't exactly sure what you were expecting to find in there. A human arm falling out was not one of them. 

Dean stepped back from the possible danger he was standing next to. You and Sam didn’t waste a second pulling out your guns and pointing it in the direction of where the arm was. The older Winchester waited a moment to see if anything else crawled out. But it seemed you were safe for the time being. Dean opened up the flaps of the makeshift pod wider. A fully grown woman tumbled out and to the ground in doing so. Charlie let out a soft gasp as Dean swiftly grabbed for his weapon if the stranger decided to try and do anything stupid as a way of greeting you all. You slowly made your way forward as Dean leaned down to push the woman on her backside to get a better inspection of her. 

She appeared to be human at first glance. What you found most odd about her was the taste in clothing. They weren't from this decade, or from this century for that matter. You were a little bit tempted to slightly nudge her with your foot when she remained on the ground with no sudden movement. After a few more seconds she started to come around to consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open as she inhaled a deep breath for the first time in God knows how long. The first question that popped in your mind was who the hell she was. 

You and Charlie did a little digging in the archives to discover the mystery visitor was someone you thought was a fictional character in a movie and book series you remembered fondly from your childhood. You made your way back to the control room with the file in hand to see Dorothy was recuperating from her well over seven decade slumber. She sat on the floor with a blanket Sam had provided for her as he tried to get some sort of information out of her. You dropped the file to the computer and briefed Dean with what you and Charlie learned. You stared down at the sepia toned photograph Dorothy sitting on her motorcycle. She sure wasn’t the Judy Garland version you had pictured in your head when you read the books as a child. 

"Holy crap! The first case invested in this bunker involved Dorthy. She and the witch came into this room, and they never came out." Charlie read off the details of the file she hadn't gotten a chance to go through in finer detail. You let out a quiet sigh from how excited she was getting over the hunt you stumbled upon. "This will never stop blowing my mind!"

"Okay, pace yourself, Toto." You whispered to her.

“Oz is real!” She exclaimed with too much eagerness for your personal liking from the situation you were dealing with. You shook your head from the way she was handling all of this. She nudged you with her arm, trying to get you amped up as she was from the things you were learning. “It’s part of the fairy world.” 

“We have to find her.” Dorothy stated. You knew damn well who she was talking about, the wicked witch. Didn’t explain who put her in the glass bottle and left her on the shelf undisturbed for all these decades. The same bottle Dean must’ve accidentally spilled over when he was trying to take off the back panel of the computer.

“No, we have to talk before anyone does anything, okay?” Sam tried to get the woman to focus on the questions she ignored just moments ago. She remained silent, tugging the blanket closer around her body. “Dorothy?”

“Talk? Typical Men of Letters, standing around, having a nice little chat with your noses buried in your books while your little secretaries take notes.” Dorothy rolled her eyes when she glanced in the direction of you and Charlie, thinking standards for how women were only capable of being nothing more than glorified paper pushers. You scoffed at her presumption that was the farthest thing from the truth. She had a lot to catch up on. 

“We’re hunters.” Dean told the woman. 

"And who are you calling a secretary?" Charlie came to both of your defenses at the sexist title. 

“You’re not secretaries? You’re Women of Letters?” Dorothy looked surprised much as she sounded when she asked a question that felt almost impossible. You nodded your head, only making her become more baffled about her surroundings. "W—How long have I been out?"

“That’s why we need to talk. Look, you’ve been gone for over seventy-five years. Now, according to our file, you came here to kill the wicked witch and then you disappeared.” Sam gave the woman a quick refresher to help jog her memory in hopes it might fill in the gaps of information that the file couldn’t provide. “What happened?”

“We couldn’t find a way to kill her. So I did the only thing that I could.” Dorothy explained to all of you that led her to the demise, and how you found her the way you did. “A binding spell that came at a price—her soul with mine.”

“So you’ve been frozen with the witch for all this time?” You asked. 

“Yes.” Dorothy answered. She pushed off the blanket and got up to her feet, growing frustrated from all the precious time you were wasting on silly questions that weren’t going to lead the search for the witch any faster. “Look, the witch cannot be killed. If I am awake, then so is she.”

“Wait, if she’s here, why didn’t she kill you?” Sam wondered.

“She can’t.” Dorothy explained. 

“You’re protected by the witch of the North’s kiss.” Charlie jumped into the conversation and told you the reason why. She smiled from her knowledge that she had a feeling was going to come in handy. "It was in the books."

“Oh, forget the books! They’re not important. I’m protected. You aren’t.” Dorothy turned the focus onto an important detail that couldn't go without saying from the danger all of you were under. ”Now, the witch came here looking for something. I have no idea what it is. But we have to find her before she finds it.” 

“All right, all right. Charlie, dig into the files. See if you can find anything that puts a dent in a witch.” Dean instructed a set of plans to somehow get this situation under wraps. “Sam, Y/N and I will have a look-see. Come on.” 

“I’m helping.” Dorothy declared, clapping her hands together. 

"Yeah, I don't doubt it. But for right now, why don't you rest up and help the smartest person in the room?" You suggested to the woman. You glanced over in Charlie’s direction to catch the smile that began to creep on her lips from the subtle compliment. The young woman admitted about her longing for magic and all sorts of adventures, you had a feeling Dorothy could provide some during her stay. “Have fun, girls.”

You and the boys searched much of the grounds as you could together. Neither one of you wanted to take a chance at splitting up and going up against the wicked witch alone if you were unlucky enough. You didn't know how long it had been after she escaped or where she was hiding. You went through several different locations before making your way to the dungeon shortly after, wanting to be sure your other house guest was still locked up tight. The wicked witch and the king of hell teaming up together wasn't how you wanted to spend your night.

Luckily for you the king of hell was exactly where you had left him earlier today; locked up tight in the chains that secured him from trying to make a foolish escape. But he wasn’t innocent as he looked slumped back in the chair. Crowley was all too causally whistling a familiar tune from a movie you had seen several times in your lifetime enough to recognize the reference. It was the song. “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Dorothy sung it before she was swept away to Oz by the tornado. You cautiously looked around to make sure if the wicked witch wasn’t here, and when she wasn’t like how you suspected, you dropped your gun back down to your side. 

"Wow. If it isn't Dorothy and her pals, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man. Your new houseguest—so misunderstood." Crowley informed you of what you already were about to deduce on your own. He waited a moment for either one of you to get the reference he slipped in, but when he was left hanging, you responded with silence. “Neither one of you saw 'Wicked'?"

"Sorry. I haven't exactly had the chance to visit Broadway lately. I'll make sure to get right on that after we wrap all of this up." You said, rolling your eyes. "What did she say to you?"

"Something along the lines of..." You weren't sure if the demon was trying to be cheeky with you when he hissed, bearing his teeth and all. 

"All right, well, I'm gonna get some holy oil and a lighter, dick bag." Dean said to the demon, not even the least bit impressed by the childish behavior that meant nothing to you. 

"I know what she's looking for." Crowley said. He tried to use his knowledge for leverage to get something out of you. You narrowed your eyes on the demon as he raised his brow, wondering if you were going to play long to hear the answer.

"What does she want?" Sam questioned the demon. 

"I'd be happy to tell you, as soon as I get to stretch my legs." Crowley gave you a smug smile you wanted to smack off his face. The demon knew he had you backed into a corner, the only thing you could do was give into his petty demands. Or continue chasing your tails.

You let out a frustrated sigh. The boys weren't too pleased either as to what the demon was asking. But you gave in with a nod of the head. Dean approached Crowley with the key to unlock the chain around the demon's neck, all while holding the knife to stab him with if he tried anything stupid. Crowley behaved the entire time. He slid off the collar and let it drop to the ground, you and Sam never lowering your weapons as he did so. He let out a groan of relief from being freed for the first time since you forced him down here. 

You gave the demon an impatient look as he took his time enjoying the freedom that wasn’t going to last for too long. He moved around his stiff neck and finally pushed himself up to his feet to stretch his aching legs. Crowley even had the audacity to let out a chuckle and smile at his victorious win.

"All right." You spoke up, wanting to get the demon back on track to the reason why you were even letting him off his leash. "What does the witch want?"

"Give me a mo.” Crowley said. “I still need to air myself out."

You pointed your loaded gun at him and shot off a round straight into his chest, showing him you weren't in the mood to keep playing his little games. "I think you're out enough." 

“Rude.” The demon muttered, taken back by your hostile behavior.

Crowley inspected the bullet wound in his meat suit and shook his head, you ruined his outfit even farther as well. You were about to warn him where the next bullet would go, the demon compiled before you could get a single word out. He reached for the crumpled piece of paper at the edge of the table and unfolded it to show you a single word written down. You furrowed your brow slightly, not sure what to make of it.

“Key?” Sam read off the word. “What key?”

“I haven’t the foggiest. Had to send her off on a merry chase before she could melt me.” The demon said. He gave you a smile from the corny joke you once again didn’t find the least bit funny. “Told her you boys kept the keys in the kitchen. You do have a kitchen in this crap hole, don’t you?”

You had the first potential lead at finding out where the witch was before she could get her hands on this supposed key. You and the boys quickly made your way to the kitchen in some kind of hope that you might be able to catch her, but you were too late. All she left behind was the mess she left trying to find the damn key she was doing everything she could to find. 

The witch tore every inch of the room apart; pots and pans were scattered all over the floor, food you had left out to enjoy later laid spilled on the counters. It looked like a tornado blew in here. You let out a groan of frustration and dropped your arm holding your gun back down to your side. Not only did you have this mess to clean up after you solved this Wizard of Oz, the wicked bitch was still on the loose and most likely tearing apart another room.

"Damn it, I just cleaned in here." Dean grumbled in frustration.

"Really?" Sam sounded like he was in disbelief at hearing his brother was capable of cleaning up after himself. 

"Surprisingly, yes. He's become very domestic since we started living here." You said. You made your way into the kitchen when it was made clear your problem was long gone, but still lingering about and causing more chaos in her path. "Looks like we got a witch problem." 

You took a moment to examine the damage the witch left behind and how long it was going to take for you and the boys to clean up. You were still on high alert, nearly shooting at the person who came into the kitchen from one of the few doorways. You dropped your gun back down when you saw that it was just Charlie and Dorothy back from their own tasks you hoped had been more successful than your dead end. 

“Sorry. We raided your gun range. Made us some poppy bullets.” Charlie explained to all of you. She showed off the revolver and shoved a hand inside her pocket, pulling out the one thing you had against the wicked witch. You raised your brow in curiosity and reached for one to inspect it for yourself. “They won’t kill the witch, but they will stun the crap out of her.” 

Dean examined the bullets for himself Charlie had made on her own. He had to admit she did a good job on figuring out a potential weapon against the witch. She always managed to impress him from how she could handle herself in stressful times. “That’s my girl.”  

“There was only enough for five bullets, so…” Charlie told you the downside about her genius invention. You dealt with worse circumstances as you loaded the bullet into the chamber for the moment you might need to use it. “Make each shot count.” 

“Now we just have to find her before she finds whatever the hell’s she’s looking for.” Dorothy said. 

“She’s looking for a key.” Sam informed the two women. 

“How do you know?” Charlie asked. 

“Little birdie told us.” You said, leaving out the source where you found out on your own. You really didn’t have time, or in the mood, to explain the reason behind having the king of hell chained up in your dungeon. “Ring any bells, Dorothy?”

“Unfortunately. It’s the key to Oz. There are magical ways into Oz—tornado, eye of a hurricane, whirlpool—but this key will turn any locked door into a portal to Oz.” Dorothy explained what made this one in particular so special. And why the witch wanted to get her hands on it so badly.  “Insert key, twist, and presto, you’re in Oz.”

“How did the Men of Letters get the key?” Sam asked. 

“I have no idea, but if she finds it, she’ll go back and finish what she started. She’ll destroy all that is good in Oz. She’s got armies of witches, flying monkeys.” Dorothy painted all of you a grim picture of what the future might look if you weren’t faster than she was. “Many will die.” 

"What's this key look like?" Dean asked her. Dorothy pulled out a small leather bound journal from the inside pocket of her jacket and flipped to a sketch of the key. You furrowed your brow slightly when it looked familiar to you. "I've seen that key. Found it when Y/N and I were doing inventory." 

“Where is it now?” Dorothy asked. 

“My room. We got to get that key. Alright, Charlie and I will go look in my room.” Dean formulated a plan before all of you split up to go your separate ways. “Why don’t you guys buy us some time?”

You nodded your head in agreement. You watched as Dorothy and Sam made their way to the more open area of the bunker to get a better chance at finding the witch. You lingered behind for a moment as you called out for the redhead’s attention before she could get too far. Much as you trusted her ability to take care of herself, there was still a part of you that wanted her out of danger. You were dealing with a powerful witch and no real means to stopping her. 

“Safest place in this joint is the dungeon.” You informed her.

“You have a dungeon in this place? Of course you do.” She smiled at the new room she learned about, wondering exactly might be hiding in there when given the chance to explore it one of these days like the rest of this place. 

“So maybe you should…” You hinted around what you were trying to say without coming right out with it. You wanted more than anything to make sure she was safe. But you should have known she wasn’t going to back down from the very thing she admitted to you about stumbling across again. This hunt was her dream come true. 

“I am not hiding, especially in a dungeon. Wicked witch, a key, a quest? Did you not listen to anything I said before?” Charlie was walking on cloud nine from the adventure she stumbled upon. She broke out into a grin and playfully punched the man standing next to you in the shoulder. “Let’s do this, Dean.” 

You shook your head in annoyance as the woman made her way to Dean’s room to find the key, ignoring your last attempt at calling her name. You knew at this point all of your warnings fell upon dea ears. You let out a sigh of defeat and made your way to wherever Dorothy and Sam ended up, Dean quickly catching up with Charlie before she could get herself into too much trouble while snooping around his bedroom.

[Next Part]

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[peaceisadirtyword]

Don’t play with fire II (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Sorry again for the delay♥️ this is definitely not my best work, it’s quite bad probably, but I tried my best... Hope it’s not too boring! Thank you for reading and I will try to post more this week!😘 To read the first part and the prologue, go to my masterlist💕

Warnings: Toxic (very toxic) relationship (run away from relationships like this one), mentions of murder, death and violence. 

Words: 2738

gif belongs to @ivaraddict

Ivar was disappointed. 

He had trusted Heahmund, even considered him his friend... He offered to help him get revenge for his beautiful mother's murder, but now... 

He saw the truth on Heahmund's shocked face when he arrived at the abandoned factory with many more men than he actually said. 

Ivar was tired of betrayal, he could trust no one, not even his good friend.

Ubbe almost sighed in relief when he noticed you were right. He truly didn't want his little brother torturing and killing an innocent girl for having the wrong information. 

"I thought this was a simple reunion, Ivar" Heahmund cleared his throat, eyeing the big group of men that waited behind the Lothbrok brothers. 

"Is it not?" Ivar made a confused face, pouting "I'm here for business, Heahmund, my men are just accompanying me"

"I thought you and your brothers would come alone"

Hvitserk chuckled as Ivar smiled widely, shaking his head. 

"Just how much of a fool do you think I am?"

"Ivar..."

"Don't" he clenched his jaw "Fuck with me, Heahmund, why are you so scared of the number of men I brought?"

Heahmund cleared his throat. He hadn't ever feared Ivar the Boneless and he refused to do it now. 

"I'm not scared, I'm surprised, it looks like you're prepared to attack Lagertha tonight"

"I'm always prepared, Heahmund" Ivar shrugged "Now tell me, what news do you have about my dear half-brother and his mother?"

"I don't have any news about them, nothing special anyway"

"You sure?" Ivar frowned as Hvitserk scoffed "How's Lagertha?" 

This time Heahmund took a step back. He recognized that tone, the tone Ivar used to play with people. He knew how to deal with him when he was all angry, screaming and throwing knives, but he was even more dangerous when he used that soft tone. 

"Lagertha?" 

"Yes, if I'm not wrong, you fucked her last night, right?" Ivar started walking around, his mouth clenching in disgust while he looked at the place Heahmund chose to meet him "How is she in bed? I've heard she's quite good, my father told me one night, when he was drunk"

"I don't know what are you talking about, Ivar"

Realizing his brother was about to explode, Ubbe intervened. He usually stayed away from these things, as he didn't really wanted to fight his older brother Björn, but as the diplomatic brother, he felt like he had to calm things down sometimes. 

"What my brother is trying to say" he sighed "Is that we know you've been with Lagertha, and we don't take betrayal well"

Heahmund felt more comfortable when Ubbe spoke, knowing he wasn't as impulsive as Hvitserk or Ivar and would listen to him.

"I've been with her, yes" he confessed, and Ivar raised his eyebrows "To gather information for you"

"And yet you say you don't have any special information about them" Hvitserk's words sounded threatening "It looks like we need new sources" he eyed Ivar, who smirked.

"I know exactly where to find them" 

He was in the mood for a fight, but he knew Heahmund would never give the signal to Aethelwulf as long as they outnumbered them. 

"I have information, but nothing relevant for you"

"I decide what's relevant for me and what's not" Ivar was starting to get more and more angry "Tell your friend Aethelwulf he should be careful of who hears his son when he tells everyone their plans"

You sighed tiredly as you climbed the stairs... Why didn't you rent the apartment on the first floor? 

It was almost 23:00 pm, and you just went out of work. At first you thought that going to class in the morning and working during the whole afternoon was a good idea. 

Well, it wasn't.

You almost screamed in relief when you stopped in front of your door, taking your keys and opening it. It wasn't locked, which surprised you. You always locked your apartment when you went out... But that morning you left in a hurry so probably you forgot. 

Entering the apartment, you closed the door and left your bag next to it, on the floor, wanting nothing more than eat something and curl up in your bed with your laptop, binge watching some series until you fell asleep. 

But when you turned on the lights, you saw him. At first it was just someone sitting on your couch, which was already scary as fuck, but then you recognized him and you flinched. 

"What the hell?!" You screamed, looking around to search for something that would help you defend yourself "What the fuck are you doing here?! Get out before I call the police!"

Ivar chuckled, amused by your threat. 

"You have a lovely apartment" he smirked, ignoring you "Though you should definitely move to a new one, bigger, in a better neighborhood... Maybe with an elevator, too, I hate stairs" he shrugged.

"What are you doing in my house?!" You kept screaming, scared and angry "How did you get in?" 

"Your lovely neighbor, Mrs. Larsen, found me sitting next to your door and immediately offered me to open the door with the keys you gave her so I could wait for you inside... She thought I was your boyfriend" he smirked "A very nice woman, indeed"

You kept looking around, trying to find some kind of weapon that would help you to get rid of him, regretting giving a copy of your keys to your neighbor, an old lady who offered to take care of your cat and take a look around when you were out the whole day. 

"What do you want?" You tried to pretend to be more calmed down than you really were.

"You were right about Heahmund" he got up from your couch, leaning into his crutch as he walked around your living room, looking at the bookshelves and the few pictures you had "But, I still can't trust you" he sighed "So I still haven't decided if I should kill you or not... As you won't tell me your sources"

"I already told you my sources" you narrowed your eyes "Alfred, Aethelwulf's son, said it once, while sitting on the cafeteria I work in, I heard him"

"And I already told you I don't believe you" his eyes darkened, and his fist clenched around his crutch "You sold information to me about Aethelwulf's movements, how do I know you won't tell him about my movements?" 

"I told you" you insisted "I hate the Saxons, I have my reasons to want them dead" you hissed "And I didn't sell anything, I didn't do it for money, I don't want your money" you pressed your lips together.

Ivar seemed taken aback by your answer, but he recovered quickly and kept glaring at you.

"Then what do you want?" 

"Revenge" you crossed your arms in front of your chest "The Saxons killed my boyfriend" you lied, shivering by the way you said it, it was so easy to lie... "I wish nothing more than seeing them dead"

He raised an eyebrow, smirking softly. You were even more attractive with that dark side of yours. 

"Okay, let's suppose I'm believing you" he said, calmed and softly "Would you provide me more information about the Saxons?" 

"Oh, now you need more information?" you tilted your head, smiling in victory "And why should I give it to you, hmm? You threatened me, you doubted me, broke into my house and now you want me to work for you"

"Well, you obviously could use the money" he raised an eyebrow, looking around your living room again, which made you furious. 

"I don't want your money"

"You sure?" His smirk said it all. He was taunting you, trying to make you angry. That was fun for him. 

The way you pretended not to be intimidated by him was even more fun. 

"Yes, I'm sure" you looked at him in the eye "But how do I know you won't kill me once you don't need anything more from me?"

Ivar smirked. 

"That's the best part... You don't know"

Hvitserk's favorite moment of the day was dinner. What was better than eating until he couldn't move and then going to bed and sleep for hours? 

Yeah, nothing could really be better than that. 

But Ubbe pacing around the living room, interrupting him as he tried to watch Netflix and finish his dinner ruined it

"Can you please stop standing in front of the fucking tv, Ubbe?" He scoffed with his mouth full.

"Ivar said he'd be back soon" his older brother ignored him "It's been three hours now, Hvitserk"

"He's old enough to be out at night, Ubbe" he rolled his eyes, frowning when Ubbe moved in front of the television again "Fuck off"

"What if he killed her?" he sighed. Ubbe didn't like it when Ivar or Hvitserk killed innocent people, especially if she was just a young girl that hadn't done anything bad. 

"Why would he kill her?" Hvitserk shrugged "She didn't lie, maybe they're just fucking... Why are you so worried, anyway? You don't even know her"

Ubbe knew things about you, like Ivar and Hvitserk. Their contact had informed about you; Y/N Y/L/N , twenty-two years old; student of History at the University of Copenhagen and waitress at a small cafeteria in the city center. Living in a small apartment in Vesterbro, all alone since her roommate left to live with her boyfriend. People said you were nice, always smiling and listening to other people's drama. Your boss was delighted with you. And you had a cat, a black one with green eyes called Smaug. You loved Tolkien. 

Ubbe had insisted on going with Ivar to talk to you, with no results. His little brother knew you could be useful, as you were an anonymous girl that looked all innocent and completely normal. No one would suspect you were involved with the most dangerous gang of all Scandinavia. 

"Ivar doesn't trust her" Ubbe sighed "I don't either, but I don't think she has bad intentions... I'm worried because I know him, he's not the most patient person in the world and she kind of stood up to him, he's not used to that"

"It will be fine, Ivar liked her" Hvitserk smirked "Didn't you see it? He was undressing her with his eyes... I can't blame him, she's quite hot isn't she? And he definitely liked how she wanted him to think she wasn't afraid of him... I wouldn't be too worried, the worst thing he will do to her is fuck her until she can't walk"

Ubbe frowned. Sometimes the way Hvitserk seemed to know Ivar like no one else amazed him. 

"I don't think they're fucking, Hvitserk..."

"Well, maybe not yet, but they will" he shrugged again "Now move your ass and let me watch the fucking show"

You scratched your cat's ears softly as your eyes were glued to the screen of your laptop. You should be finishing an assignment for uni that was due in two days, but instead of that you were trying to learn how you could change the lock of your door and how to tell a lovely, old neighbor that you needed her to give you the keys back.

Ivar had left after you promised him you'd have more information for the next day, but the thought of finding him again on your living room again was too much for you. 

"Why did I get myself into all of this?" you sighed, looking at your cat. You'd like to be him sometimes; no responsibilities, no studies, no boyfriends, no trouble... And he had the entire apartment for himself during the whole day. 

He meowed, and it sounded like a mock to you. 

"I'm stupid, am I not?" 

He meowed again, and you chuckled softly. 

"I agree with you"

There was no way you could sleep then, you were still nervous and scared, and Erik had sent a message to you to tell you he was on his way to the apartment. 

His message definitely brightened up your mood. You felt like watching some movie with your boyfriend, both in bed and eating popcorn until both of you fell asleep. Like you did when you started dating. 

You met Erik at work. He stopped by the cafeteria to have a cup of coffee and a chocolate cookie. He had been polite and cute, and he didn't have to insist for you to give him your phone number. He called you that same night. 

You learnt he had been fighting against drug addiction and alcoholism for years, but he had been sober for two months. He seemed so sweet and mature that you fell in love with him.

He was your first boyfriend, the first one you truly loved. 

In a year and a half of relationship, things had changed a lot. The Erik from the beginning was caring, sweet, passionate and intense. But now he was a totally different person. 

Why were you still with him?

Because you loved him. 

No matter how many times he screamed at you, push you away with harsh words, ask you to do impossible things for him, you'd always forgive him. And you were mad at yourself for that. 

You tried leaving him once, though. Too tired of dealing with his shit.

But he needed you. He begged you to stay, crying and kissing your hand. He said he couldn't live without you. 

And a few weeks after that he asked you to risk your life for him. 

You have to earn Ivar's trust, you're a good actress, doll... You won't have any problem, he'll be infatuated with you in a few weeks. I'll give you information he needs, tell him and make him trust you. Then we will get rid of him. 

Erik hated the Lothbroks with passion. They had killed one of his friends, at the same fight in which Sigurd, their brother, had lost his life too. 

Since then, he had promised he would kill Ivar, and now he was using you to do it. 

And you helped him because you were a fool, too in love and scared of losing him. Too dependent. 

Your doorbell startled you. Immediately you left your laptop closed on the table and hurried to open the door. 

Erik stank to alcohol. He fought to keep his eyes opened, and you wrinkled your nose when he leaned into you to kiss your lips softly. 

"You're drunk" you bit your lip, looking at him with disappointment as he entered your apartment and walked to the living room.

"I'm fine" he scoffed, barely making it to the couch before falling down heavily "What did you say to Lothbrok?" 

"I told him I would provide more information" you rolled your eyes, closing the door.

"You can tell him that Aethelwulf is sick" he smirked "And that they're working with Lagertha and Björn"

"Björn? I thought he was their brother?" 

"He is, half-brother actually" he groaned, touching his head "But his mother killed Aslaug, their mother, and Ivar wants to see both Björn and Lagertha dead... Hey, do you have anything to eat?"

Ivar wasn't surprised when he saw Ubbe awake, waiting for him sitting on the couch. He could hear Hvitserk snoring softly on his bedroom.

"I'm glad to see you're not covered in blood" 

Ivar smirked as he walked to the couch, grunting. He had been using the crutches the whole day, and his legs were hurting. 

"I could have changed my clothes"

"Nah, you wouldn't bother with that"

Ivar shrugged.

"She's alive, you can sleep now"

"What did you do to her?"

"Why so interested? Do you like her? Should I tell Torvi?"

"No" Ubbe rolled his eyes.

"I just asked her to provide more information" Ivar pouted "It hurts me to know you have that little faith on me, brother"

"I'm sure you're hurting, but please don't hurt that girl, she didn't do anything wrong"

Even if he wanted to kill you, he couldn't. The way you fixed your beautiful eyes on his, the way you stood up to him and hide your fear interested him. He wasn't blind, and you were one of the most beautiful girls he had ever met, but more than that, you were... Intriguing. 

Intriguing and useful. 

Smiling softly, Ivar shrugged. 

"I can't promise anything... Good night, Ubbe"

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @naaladareia @ivarslittlebadgirl @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @chimera4plums @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @gruffle1 @poisonous00 @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @kalonthecat @nataliehasgrace @atlas-of-the-world @justrepostandlove @persephones-deadgirlwalking @justacripple @love-dria @heartbeats-wildly @sw-eat-ing

I hope I didn’t forget anyone! Thank you for reading and I really hope you liked it♥️

[blackleatherjacketz]

My Brother’s Keeper: Chapter 10

Negan x Reader

Featuring: Alden

Summary: Your brother runs away from the Sanctuary and you pay the price.

Warnings: Mourning, Alcohol Consumption, Hurt/Comfort, Thoughts of Suicide

Word Count: 1641

Notes: This chapter is best when accompanied by Sir Elton John’s “Someone Saved My Life Tonight”

Read the rest of the story HERE!

Hours of somber silence in the backseat of Negan’s car made you more exhausted than you‘d anticipated. The Oxycontin from your orgasm lingered, mixing in with the fear, adrenaline and grief of the night’s events as it left you sick with attraction you couldn’t quite stifle. You wanted to hate him, to wish he was dead and never to see him again, but you couldn’t quite convince yourself to think any of those things.

You wanted to ask him a dozen questions that rattled around in your brain. Why did he kill Alex instead of giving him the Iron? Did something set him off or change his mind? Was it you? Was it Ezekiel? What would happen to the rest of your family now that Alex was gone? Was this all your fault? Did you do enough? Did you do too much? Above all else, you wanted to know if he still wanted you, and you hated yourself for wondering that.

The reality of their deaths hadn’t quite hit you yet, the numbness of grief still keeping you quiet as you walked down the hall, half expecting to see either of them waiting for you. It wasn’t until you finally arrived at your family’s quarters to deliver the news that your father screamed out a trail of expletives, throwing a lamp across the room before shoving into you with the brunt of his shoulder. He stormed out in a puffed-up silence, ignoring your intense need for compassion.

Your sister merely shook her head as tears fell silently down her face, embracing your sister in law as they both collapsed onto the floor. You stood there like a vacant vessel, a messenger they didn’t shoot as they embraced each other, wailing together like banshees as your body barely stood still. You were surrounded by family, yet all alone despite what you’d done to prevent that from happening. You needed some air, a drink, a cigarette or a shower, but you’d settle for just one of those right now.

You grabbed the bottle of whiskey your dad always kept in the cabinet for special occasions. It was half empty already, the label with the dancing devil on it almost completely peeled off as your fingerprints smudged the opaque glass container. You unscrewed the cap and took a swig, the red hot cinnamon burning into the cracks of your chapped lips as you made your way down the hall and out the front door. You didn’t drink very often, and you knew it would only take a few more sips before you started losing your senses. You didn’t want to mourn in front of the other Saviors, and you certainly didn’t want Negan finding out you’d taken to the bottle just yet.

Instead you found yourself climbing the outdoor staircase, one sip for each flight that you reached; a personal achievement if you took into account the high heels you were still sporting. The whiskey heated you up from the inside now, fiery alcohol seeping from your pores as you sweated your way up to the last flight of stairs. The wind was cool at the top of the building, blowing you this way and that as it made the pressure in your ears a thousand times worse.

You hadn’t realized that you’d been crying this entire time, mascara-stained tears dripping onto your neck and chest as you reached the final platform. You did your best to wipe them off, sniffing your swollen sinuses as you walked over to the concrete ledge of the building. Your head was pounding, the fluid in your head not coming out your eyes fast enough before the bottle of whiskey fell from your hands. You watched as it fell seven stories down, shattering into a thousand pieces in a silent glittering picture.

“Hey,” Alden’s voice rang in your ears, seeming so loud yet so far away as he slowly approached you. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

You winced as his words swam through the fluid in your head, bouncing off the walls of your sinuses before increasing the already painful pressure your tears had created. How did he get there? Did he climb up the ladder on the other side of the building and walk all this way? Did he run up all those flights of stairs in the middle of the Sanctuary to… it didn’t matter. Nothing did. Not anymore. You just wanted some peace and quiet, and you couldn’t even get that all the way up here.

“I think we’ve been through enough, don’t you?” His boots displaced the gravel as he walked toward you, their deafening crunch forcing your eyes closed in an attempt to shut out any excess stimulation. Enough, enough, enough! You’d seen and heard enough!

Alden leaned forward and inched his fingertips over your knuckles, squeezing your palm with trembling determination. In your heart of hearts you knew he was trying to help, that he was just as upset as you were, and hell, maybe he came up here for the same reason you did. But you wanted to be alone, to be as physically alone as you felt, and he wasn’t helping any.

“I don’t want to talk to anyone right now,” you admitted.

“I know you don’t,” he acknowledged your pain with a shaky lilt, “But maybe that’s why you should.” His voice was sweet like the summer air, its timbre a warm honey in the black tea of the Southern twilight. His eyes were just like yours as you turned to meet him, wet with tears as the moonlight masked his reddened sclera. He was more alone than you could ever be, yet here he was trying to help.

“I ruined everything.” Another tear fell from your cheek, landing on his hand as you finally squeezed it back.

“No, you didn’t,” Alden started, guiding you toward him with a flick of his wrist. “What happened tonight was terrible, but I can’t stand to lose anyone else, especially not you.” The corner of his mouth curled into a nervous smile as he forced a laugh.

“Why would it matter if you lost me? We’re not even that good of friends.” You wanted to distance yourself from him, to piss him off and make him leave.

“Sure we are.” He held your hand steadily, ignoring your poor attempt to push him away. “Remember that time when neither of us could sleep this winter? It was so cold, we both found ourselves huddling over the gas lantern in the middle of the library and we…” He licked his lips and laughed as he recalled the memory. “We read each other passages from Tolkien to keep each other awake?” He wrapped his arm around your waist. “Or that time when I had a sore throat and could barely speak, so you made Simon go out and find me a dry erase board while you gave me medicine to make me feel better?”

“Yeah,” you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, letting him pick you up off the ledge like a dance scene from an old black and white movie.

“Or that time when you saved that little girl by amputating her arm instead of just letting her go like Doctor Carson wanted?” The tears in his eyes seemed to dwindle down, the caramel in them shining through as he helped you stand up. “People need you here, whether you can see that now or not.”

“I guess.” You looked down at your feet, the high heels Negan gave you covered in dirt as you made your way across the roof. “My dad won’t even talk to me after I told him what happened. He probably thinks it’s all my fault, that I didn’t put out enough, or that Natalie would have...”

“Hey,” Alden whispered, placing both hands on your shoulders. “People grieve in different ways; they go through the stages in different orders.” He rubbed his thumb along the fine hair of your bicep, sending a warm and comforting shiver down your spine. “He loves you more than anything. Believe me, I know, he won’t shut up about his favorite daughter.”

“His favorite daughter?” Your brow furrowed. How could you be his favorite if he treated you the way he did?

“He just needs some time,” he reassured you. “We all do.”

“I thought Alex had time, I thought my mom did…” you blinked a tear away and looked up at the moon. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Alden dropped his head, shaking a few tears loose. “We just have to keep a part ourselves in all of this, no matter how hard it is. We have to keep going and hopefully someday we can be those people again.”

“What if I’m not that good person you think I am? What if I actually liked being with him, even though I knew… I knew what he would do?” You confessed.

“Well, then you’re safer than I thought.” He forced a wink and playfully nudged your shoulder, biting his bottom lip to hold back any more tears. “Look,” He took in a deep breath, glancing at you with that beautifully disarming face. “Negan doesn’t have to define you, just like the Saviors don’t have to define me.”

“Maybe not.” You sniffed and looked up at him.

“Just keep that person alive in there, no matter how bad it gets.” Alden let go of your shoulders and ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair, letting out the heaviest of sighs. “Simon said they’re assigning me to one of the outposts tomorrow, so, I won’t see you again after this.”

“Alden, they can’t…”

“They can, and they did,” he sighed, “Just survive for me somehow, alright?” He leaned in and kissed your cheek. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

-------------------

Tags: @annablack1102 @genevievedarcygranger @letsby @negans-network @negansdirtygirl22 @rasa1945 @chamberofsloths @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @namelesslosers @mblaqgi @collette04 @bishsposts @haleyea @ptite-shit @jamiekingofmen @ibelongtonegan @chloejanedecker1, @divadinag @dxloverpunk @tylersblurrylittleface

[thatfairyfangirl]

Part Of That World Chapter 6

With your copy of Two Towers firmly in hand you seated yourself on the sill of a slightly opened window, enjoying the scents of impending autumn as you slowly flipped through the book. Tolkien always held a special place in your heart... Fingertips danced around a warm cup of coco as you drank in the words blissfully...though the technology had changed so much while you were gone you were glad to find nothing could ever replace a good book.

“You know they made that into a movie.” Clint offered with a smile as he sat against the wall next to you. “We’re going to be watching them later tonight if you want to join us...Steve has never seen them so…”

“So no spoilers.” You chuckled with a nod.

However, it would seem the movie is never as good as the book. It didn’t take you long to begin complaining...Where’s Tom Bombadil...Who is this chick, where’s Glorfindel….woah woah THAT’S Arwen?! and so many more questioning complaints spilled from you mouth as you sat curled up under a soft blanket. 

“If one more word comes out of your mouth I swear to god!” Bucky warned as he watched your mouth open to complain about the difference in the mirror scene. “It’s different. Get over it!” He added as you threw some popcorn at the TV, face scrunched. However, much to his delight, not long after you nodded off, sparing him complaints for the second and third movies...never admitting that in the back of his mind he was now wondering how it went in the book. Once the final scene had played and the credits began to roll for the last time Bucky made his way back to his room, passing by your open door on the way. He cautiously looked down both ends of the hall before slipping into your room. Coral and shells made up the majority of the decor, a small photo of a young oddly familiar man with blond hair and deep green eyes stared at him from a photo by your bed, yet he couldn’t quite place where he had seen the man before but something about it unsettled him. Shaking the feeling off he grabbed the book you had been reading and took a peek inside… you were right, it was nothing like the movie, he could barely push through the first few pages...such a dry read. “No thanks, not for me.” He said to himself before leaving the room for his own.

~ ~ ~ ~ 

Flashes of faces and gunfire haunted Bucky’s dreams as his subconscious recalled the painful days of his past, reminding him of the pain of the procedures. Violence and death were his lullaby until he woke up screaming. With a deep breath he checked the clock...2am...Wiping away a cold sweat from his brow he shuffled silently down to the kitchen to get a drink and settle his mind.

As he poured himself a glass of water he heard a soft beautiful singing voice echoing from the common room, 

Up where they walk

Up where they run

Up where they stay all day in the sun

Wanderin' free

Wish I could be

Part of that world

Following the voice he found you on the sofa in the same position they left you in earlier, as you watched the classic tail of a mermaid who wanted to be human. As the song ended you laid your head down on the arm of the sofa with a sigh. Atlantica might not be your home, but it was the closest depiction you've seen...the perfect balance between the capital Atlantis and your settlement community. It seemed to be helping with the homesickness. Water spurted from Bucky’s lips in shock as he checked to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. This was just too perfect! “So this is what you’re society is like? What does that make you? The sea witch?” Bucky asked with narrow eyes as he looked down to you. You picked your head up, turning to see your usual tormentor. Though he expected you to react with anger or an insult of your own all you did was lay back down, returning to your movie with an elongated sigh. “Hey blobfish I’m talking to you.”

“Go away Bucky. I’m not in the mood for this right now.” Was all you could muster. Did he finally break you? He didn’t know what to do with himself now...he had grown so used to the feud between the two of you what was there to do now?

The next morning you and Clint sat at the kitchen table sharing a pot of coffee. “I don't know man, maybe he's right. Maybe I should just go home.” You said with a moan as you played with the mug begging to be refilled in your hands. “I mean, I just don't fit in here.”

“What?!” He coughed as he nearly choked on the coffee. “No! You're a great addition to the team. Come on if there's room for a guy that shoots a bow and arrow then there's definitely room for someone with as many talents as you have.” He said encouragingly as he refilled both his cup and yours. “Don't let him get to you.”

“It's not just that. So much has changed in the last ten years.” You sighed. “I mean," you pulled the phone Tony had given you when you first arrived, “this...what even is this? When i left a cell phone had actual buttons!”

“Nah they're right there.” Clint said with a playful smirk as he pointed to the screen of the smartphone. You looked up to him with a half smile. “What's this really about?” He asked with a sigh before taking a gulp of his coffee.

You answered with a shrug as Steve walked in. “I don't know. I guess I just don't feel like I belong with the humans.” You let out another sigh. “Or the Atlanteans… or anywhere.”

“I understand where you're coming from.” Steve said as he entered the kitchen with an encouraging smile, reaching over you for the coffee. “During the war I had a hard time finding where I fit in too.” His lips pulled up into a charming smile. “It means you're special.” He clamped a hand on your shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze. “I found embracing what makes you special tends to help.”

“And what makes you special is that you are the sea witch.” Bucky interjected as he walked in. “Maybe you'll feel better if you replace those fish with some eels.” He smiled to himself feeling content in the verbal jab.

“And what makes you special is that you are a one armed asshole.” You set your cup down before getting up out of the chair. “I don't need this.”

“Where are you going?” Clint asked curiously as he poured the discarded coffee into his cup.

“I don't know. Maybe I'll go pack.” You answered sullenly.

“Pack?!” Steve and Clint asked in alarmed unison. If they were to ever figure out what Hydra wanted with your colony they would need you.

“About damn time you go back to your pod...is it a pod? Or is it a school? Or a-” he was cut off by a rush of the dirty dish water from the sink flying into his face before you stormed off.

Steve stomped over to Bucky, shoving his old friend. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He demanded. “You're the reason she's leaving you know!” 

“Good! Stupid fish girl thinks she's better than all of us. Why are we not going up against Hydra so she can swim off?”

“Well pal if you have any idea where to start please speak up. Whatever Hydra wants with her colony we need to figure it out. We need her. But the way you are treating (y/n) is deplorable...You owe her an apology…. NOW!”

With a huff Bucky realized Steve was right...well...mostly right. They didn’t need you to figure out what Hydra wanted with the Atlanteans...He had a pretty good idea he knew what was going on there. It was staring everyone in the face. You are living proof that Human/Atlantean hybrids were extremely powerful, given the right conditions Hydra could breed themselves an army of super soldiers. But as much as he hated to admit it, if they were going to keep that from happening they would need you. No other human knew where Atlantis was, or any colony. If they found one you’d be the person to lead the team there and stop the attack. “Hey can we talk?” Bucky asked as he knocked on your door which swung open freely. You weren’t there, but it looked like all of your things still were. “Great.” He sighed before walking in. “Well, Flotsam, Jetsom, where did she go?” He jokingly asked the fish before turning to see the photo sitting on your nightstand, that same familiar man holding a you as a child. He half smiled seeing even then you had the streaks of blue in your hair. Twice now pictures of this man, obviously your father, haunted him. Something in the back of his mind told him he knew the man...but from where? He delicately took the picture, rubbing the glass with the flesh of his thumb as he squinted at it, trying to force a memory to rise to the surface. As he studied the photo he noticed a small houseboat in the background. “Oh shit...now I remember you…” He set the picture down before running off. 

He ran through the halls like a bat out of hell in search of the girl he was ordered to let get away all those years ago. Finally he saw a flash of blond and blue in the training room. He stopped taking a moment to realize he had no idea what he was  going to say to you. As he watched you working on your fighting skills somewhere in the back of his mind he wanted to admit that you were improving, maybe one day you’d be able to beat him without the element of surprise. The glint of his arm caught your attention, but you really couldn’t pay him any mind right now, you were too preoccupied with the debate of stay on land or go back to sea. Soon realizing he wasn’t leaving you let out a growl and drove your fist into the bag, ripping it open as it flew off the hook. “What now?” You asked flatly as you bent down to pick up the bag, tossing it into the pile of other broken punching bags...you’d think by now Tony would have invented them a better workout room. 

“I…” As he began to speak a flash of light caught the metal of your fish hook necklace, reminding him of your father he murdered, pulling him away from his train of thought. “The punching bags for those of us with super strength are in the closet.” He sighed as he walked in to install the stronger bag for you. You barely waited for the bag to hang before assaulting it, grunting and screaming as you punched and kicked. He let out a sigh, his long dark hair falling into his face as he rested his head against the back of the bag. “No...that’s not why I came in here.” He said to himself, forcing his pride aside for a moment. “(Y/n), can we talk?”

“Let me save you the trouble,” you said as you moved away from the bag, pulling the athletic tape from your knuckles and wrists, “I’m a stuck up fish. Mermaid joke. I’m a fish wearing a fish hook and it’s cannibalism when I eat sushi...Did I cover it?” You said sternly as your eyes narrowed to him.

“Actually I was going to say I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you. But if you’d rather...I can take you to the costume shop a few blocks away and get you a clamshell bra.” He sat on the free weight bench, “Do you realize how much you look like your great aunt Pearl? Once upon a time she was the love of my life...It shook me… Alot. And then you were ignoring me and that just got me more heated…” He let out a sigh, “But you are a valuable part of the team and I’m sorry for how I've been treating you.” You nodded before turning back to the bag and going back to blowing off steam. “I said I’m sorry.”

“I heard you.” You said between blows. “And?”

“And what? What do you want from me? Stand on my head and bark like a seal? I’m sorry goddamnit!” His brow scrunched as he grew more and more frustrated at this damn woman. 

“And you have so much more to apologize for!” You exclaimed with frustration.

His head dipped low, he was hoping he could avoid this part of the conversation. “Your father…” He trailed off, just not sure how to go about this. “(Y/n)...I don’t…” he trailed off again as he dug his fingers into his hair.

“Right.” You rolled your eyes and left the room, not in the mood for excuses, especially on a matter like your father.

As the door shut behind you Bucky rose, letting out a guttural scream, throwing one of the weights across the room. He wasn’t sure the last time he was so angry, but not at you...it wasn’t your fault. No, he had no one to be angry at other than himself now. 

~ ~ ~ ~

“(Y/n)!” Steve called out catching you as you stormed down the halls. “Did Bucky find you?” He asked as he joined you in your path. You watched him breath out a sigh of relief at your answer. “And did he apologize?”

“If you can call that an apology.” You answered folding your arms stubbornly over your chest causing Steve’s face to fold.

“(Y/n), would you mind if I asked what your deal is with him? I mean, Clint and Tony tease you all the time and you guys are best pals.”

As Steve asked your thoughts drifted back to your father. Your eyes softened as your fingers reached up to the hook that hung from your neck, choking back the threat of tears as you looked away. “When I was a teenager Hydra came around looking for me. I was walking proof  human and an Atlantean could crossbreed. But dad wouldn’t budge so they sent the Winter Soldier…” A tear trickled down your cheek as your thoughts dwelled on that horrible day. “Your friend killed my dad in front of me.”

“Oh (Y/n)...you really can’t…” He paused letting out an elongated sigh, giving his brain time to sort out how to say this. “Bucky wasn’t a willing Hydra agent. He was kidnapped and brainwashed. The Bucky you see today had about as much say in what he was doing as where my shoes choose to walk. Physically it might have been him, but there was someone else entirely in the driver’s seat.” Suddenly you felt a little guilty for holding it against him for so long. “And it’s never easy for him to apologize about what Hydra made him do. He never knows how to word it...if he should take the blame, if he should just blame them...Can you at least give him credit for trying?” You nodded, understanding what Steve was trying to say.

[fizzyxcustard]

A Rose at Twilight - Chapter One

Read on AO3 here

Summary: You notice that someone has been visiting you at night; things have moved and roses start appearing on your dresser. Your nightly visits with none other than Thorin Oakenshield start becoming more intense, passionate, and he is eager for you to return to Middle-earth and be his Queen. However, your abusive boyfriend Ryan stands in your way, intent on making your life hell. Will you and Thorin overcome all the obstacles to begin your new life together as King and Queen? And is your past with an abusive boyfriend the only challenge you now face in a new world? Your new friends and family help you uncover all your strength that you never realised you had. But will it be enough to fight away your past and the rising opposition of you becoming the Queen of Erebor?

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x fem!Reader, fem!Reader x original Male Character, Kili x Tauriel. 

Warnings: Physical and mental abuse, hospitalisation, smut, fluff, bad language, violence - more warnings will come as the story progresses. 

Notes/Comments: This is a reposting of my original story which I began last year on my original Tumblr account, but have since made chapters longer, editing them together and posting to AO3. If you wish to be added or taken off my tag lists, send me an ask or a message. 

Follow Forever tag list: @himoverflowers @theincaprincess @shikin83 @deepestfirefun @houseofrahl @nowiloveandwilllove @mynameisnoneya1991 @blankdblank @captainrainbowpanda @cd1242 @c-s-stars @thorins-magnificent-ass @patanghill17 @trees-and-ink @inumorph @leah-halliwell92 @greendragonette @msjava1972 @thequeenoferebor

Strange things had been happening of late: your belongings had been moving in the night, and one morning you had woken with your blanket on top of you which you normally kept folded at the end of your bed. To make matters worse, you lived on your own and didn't even have anyone else to check with to see if the same thing had been happening to them.

Your first, immediate thought was: maybe a ghost? Your flat had been built on top of an old hospital which was demolished three decades ago. Maybe it was the spirit of a patient who couldn't find rest. The very thought of it made you shudder.

One morning you woke and found a single, red rose on the dresser beside your bed. You shot up, sitting bolt upright as you noticed it and grabbed it, pricking your finger.

“Ow!” you called out and dropped the flower to the floor as a thorn cut into your skin. Blood dripped down your index finger slowly.

Could a ghost really conjure an object out of thin air? Or maybe was something a little more sinister going on here? Could it have been your boyfriend, Ryan? He didn’t have a key to your flat, but maybe he had some how acquired one and was sneaking into your place at night. It didn’t seem the kind of thing he would do, especially leaving flowers. Ryan was far from the romantic type.

You grinned to yourself as your parcel came and the smiley postman handed you the box. “Thank you!” you cried loudly, grabbing the box and racing back inside. It had only been three days ago and you had put in your order on Amazon for the newest addition to your collection: a replica of the Key to Erebor from The Hobbit. It was intended to sit on your bookshelf next to your Orcrist sword and large poster of Thorin from the films.

Laughing to yourself, you opened the box, looking upon the key which was protected in a wood and glass presentation box.

You run into your bedroom and put the new addition to your collection on your bookshelf next to your Tolkien books and then stood back, admiring your pride and joy.

Later on that day and Ryan came to visit you. He was in a bad mood, as usual, complaining about the day’s events at his work, a local garage where he worked as a mechanic.

“Oh, I got my parcel today. My Key to Erebor,” you told him proudly.

He looked at you, his dark eyes narrowing. “Is that all you ever care about?” he hissed. “Your fucking bullshit film collection?”

“I just thought I’d try and lighten the mood a little bit,” you replied, starting to grow nervous at his outburst.

“No, you just wanted to discuss your own crap to invalidate mine,” Ryan shouted back, getting up from the table. “You constantly live in a fucking daydream. You’re pathetic, you know that?”

Tears stung your eyes and you looked down sadly at the table. “I know I am.”

“Pfft. At least you admit it.”

Thankfully Ryan left not long after, lighting a cigarette on his way out. He turned to kiss you but you moved away, his previous words still haunting you, and instantly you felt him grab your arm. “Don’t fucking start again. Just give me a kiss,” he growled. Quickly you kissed him, pecking him on the lips and backed off. You saw him roll his eyes and then he disappeared into the dark evening.

As you shut the door, you pressed your back to the wall and wept. Of course you were pathetic; you had always loved fantasy worlds, hoping that someone would come and take you away where you could live out the rest of your life in happiness. You had never felt you belonged in this cruel world where it was dog eat dog. Everyone was out for themselves, driven by greed, selfishness and conforming to an empty society that valued property ownership, outward beauty and hiding the truth.

In bed you curled under the duvet, crying into your pillow and hoping of a day when you would finally find some kind of contentment.

You drifted off to sleep shortly afterwards, completely oblivious to the figure sat next to you on the bed. His hand drifted through your hair and he smiled down at you, desperately wanting to pick you up in his arms and take you to that place you were yearning for so much.

“If it were up to me, you would be my Queen,” he whispered.

Your sleep was broken that night and you tossed and turned, thoughts of Ryan’s outburst still fresh in your mind. You had drifted to sleep, but now staying within a slumber was proving difficult.

The clock at the foot of your bed shone green in the dark, telling you it was just after half one in the morning. You rolled over, dropping on to your back and for a few seconds you stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance on the white paint.

A feeling of being watched washed over you, igniting terror. Your eyes darted around the room, checking for any sign, when suddenly you noticed the outline of someone sat right beside you in your bedside chair. A weak scream escaped your throat and you began to shake from head to foot.

“Do not be afraid,” a voice instructed. That voice sounded eerily familiar.

It can’t be, you thought. I’m imagining things.

The lightest touch caressed your hand and you screamed again, louder, moving backwards so quickly that you hit the wall next to you; a sharp, splintering pain soaring through your elbow. “Please don’t hurt me,” you called out, begging in your fright, still unable to see the form of the person who had broken into your flat.

“Hurt you? Impossible,” the voice came again. “Do not fear me. Never fear me.”

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice shaking and your breathing so sharp in your chest that it felt as if your whole rib cage would explode.

“I think you already have your suspicions.”

You reached over slowly, your hand shaking, and you felt for the lamp on your dresser. Anticipation was surging through you alongside the terror. Was it really who you thought it was?

Light flooded the room and illuminated the man sat next to you.

“This is a dream,” you whispered. You closed your eyes, pressing them shut hard and then opened them again, but he was still there. A smirk was present on his lips as his silver blue eyes watched you in amusement.

“I can assure you that I am real,” he replied, leaning forwards in the chair, smiling at you.

That voice melted within you, a voice so deep and mixed with velvet. His eyes were bright, his hair the colour of a raven with a few streaks of silver, showing his true age, despite still looking young. His lips were still curled upwards into a gentle smile, surrounded by a neatly trimmed beard.

“How can this be happening?” you asked, blinking again, trying to wake yourself up from the dream you were trying to persuade yourself you were having. However, you didn’t wake. Thorin was still sat in front of you, still smiling at you.

In that moment you pieced together all of what had been occurring recently. The rose. The objects moving around your room. Waking up with your blanket over you. “You’ve visited me before, haven’t you?” you asked.

Thorin’s smile grew and he leaned closer towards you. “Yes,” he replied simply.

“The rose? That was from you?”

“Yes. I would gladly give you more.” His eyes studied you. “I apologise if I have scared you. That was never my intention.”

You got up from the bed, watching him as you nearly tripped up over your washing basket. Thorin chuckled in amusement at you, knowing that you were confused, scared and curious about what was happening. He got to his feet, approaching you slowly as you backed out of the room. “I will not harm you, nor will I touch you against your will,” he told you.

You let him come closer towards you; both of you stood eye to eye, the same height. He raised his hand slowly. “May I?” he asked softly.

All you could do was nod, all comprehension and reasoning having left you.

Shivers raced through you as his hand cupped your cheek, and you surrendered. You closed your eyes, allowing the pleasurable feelings to completely consume you. A gasp found its way up through your throat, and you knew right then that you would never find a more pleasurable touch.

This all had to be a dream. Of course it was a dream. That or you were going insane...slowly. Had your obsession with The Hobbit become so integral to your mental wellbeing that you had somehow started hallucinating that the character of Thorin Oakenshield was real and standing before you?

As he cupped your cheek, you moved away after a few seconds, succumbing to tears. “I’m insane,” you said, closing your eyes again, hard, so that it became painful. You grit your teeth. “None of this is real. I’m hallucinating and I’m losing my mind.”

“All of this is real. I am here,” Thorin told you, his voice firm.

“Of course you’re going to say that. You’re a figment of my imagination,” you said, beginning to babble, but keeping your eyes tightly shut. “You’re not really there...” Then you began backing out of the room, until you turned on your heels and dashed into the small hallway and continued on into your kitchen. “You’re not there. If I ignore you then maybe you’ll go away...Yes, that’s what I need to do. Ignore your voice, not look at you and you’ll go away.” The whole time you were racing to your kitchen and you carried on babbling to yourself, trying to convince your sick mind that this wasn’t real.

Thorin followed you, sighing in exasperation, his loud footfalls echoing down the wooden floored hallway. “I am here. Listen to me. Look at me!” Thorin’s voice was full of frustration. “Please listen to me!”

“Go away!” you shouted, slamming the door as you entered your kitchen. “You’re not real. Ryan was right. I’m obsessed and I’m imagining you’re there.” You slid down onto the tiles in your kitchen with your back against the cupboards and wept, drawing your knees up to your chest. “I’m insane. Oh, fuck! I’ve lost touch with reality.”

The other side of the door and Thorin was tempted to barge in, whisk you up into his arms and show you how real he was. But your sobbing from inside hit him hard and he felt a lump in his throat. How could he show you that he was really there? All he wanted was for you to acknowledge him and know he was real. Thorin hung his head in guilt and brushed his fingertips against the door which was keeping him apart from you. “I shall go,” he whispered.

After a few minutes you raised your head from your lap and looked around the dark room. You could just about make out the outline of your dining table and chairs. The clock from your microwave shone in the dark. 2:00am.

You sniffed away the tears and rose from the floor slowly, feeling apprehensive regarding what you would find the other side of that door. You moved towards it, reaching out with a trembling hand, and closed your eyes, inhaling sharply.

He had gone.

In your room and you looked up at the poster on your wall, your eyes studying the image of the man who had just been standing before you, insisting he was real. But now he was just an image printed onto paper. You reached forward and pressed your hand against the image, feeling the cool of the paper. Of course it was just a picture.

For the next hour you lay in bed, terrified of what was going to happen to you now. What if another mental break occurred? Would it happen at work, around your family, or even Ryan? Your eyes kept studying the poster, watching for any kind of movement.

When you woke the next morning, you bat your stinging eyelids against the sunlight. For a few seconds you had forgotten about the previous night’s events, but then they began filtering through and you wept again.

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

My Burly Love Chapter 2

Sorry this took so long. I just got my wisdom teeth out. I don’t own any of Tolkien’s characters. Gif credit goes to owner and creator. This turned out longer than I expected. I appreciate all the love I got for the first part, you guys are amazing! So without further ado, here we go...

Chapter 1

I didn’t get the chance to give Dwalin his cloak because right after Balin told me who it belonged to;Thorin left. So; I packed it up with my things and decided to talk to him about it tonight.

I had decided not to ride with Fili today because he’d been squished on his saddle for days now. Instead I decided to ride with Bofur; he was always smiling and telling jokes. I quite enjoyed it…until Kili and Fili decided to pester me with questions, all day long. Silly little things like:

“What’s your favorite colour?”

“Most embarrassing moment?”

“Favourite food?”

“How do you pass the time?”

When Kili asked me that one, I told him to watch- and then I shoved him off of his horse. He didn’t ask me many questions after that and; I think Bofur was extremely grateful. Those two can be extremely annoying at times.

As we trudged along, the sky grew darker and the wind drew a cooling breeze. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the nature around me. It felt like hours, but I knew merely minutes had passed until something wet touched my cheek. I didn’t pay much attention, I assumed that Fili or Kili spit on me, but then I felt it again on my nose, then my eyes. The water kept coming and coming. It finally dawned on me that it was raining when the sky opened up and sheets of rain poured onto us.

“Mr. Gandalf? Can’t you do something about this deluge?” Dori asked.

“It is raining, master dwarf. And it will continue to rain until it is done! If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.”

“Are there any?” Bilbo asked.

“What?” said Gandalf.

“Other wizards?”

“There are five us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two blue wizards. Do you know? I’ve quite forgotten their names.” Gandalf replied.

Bilbo asked “And who’s the fifth?”

“Well, that would be Radagast, the Brown.” Gandalf answered.

“Is he a great wizard or is he…more like you?”

“I think he’s a very great wizard, in his own way.” Gandalf answered. We continued on into the freezing wall of rain. Bofur kept telling me jokes to distract me from the cold.

“What do you call a bear without ears?” he asked.

I thought for a minute and couldn’t come up with anything. “I don’t know, what?”

“A ‘b’!” It took a minute for me to understand it, then I fell into an uncontrollable laughing fit. I was laughing so hard I almost fell off of the horse along with Bofur. That would not have been good.

I eventually calmed down; but the rain was so thick that I couldn’t tell if I was crying or if it was just the rain. We continued on for several hours trucking through the mud and rain. The further we went, the more the rain slowed and slowed. As the sun began setting, the rain ceased. We decided to take advantage of the lack of rain and set up camp near an abandoned farmhouse.

“We’ll camp here for the night. Fi­li, Ki­li, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them.” Thorin ordered.

Gandalf inspected the ruined house, “A farmer and his family used to live here.”

“Oin, Gloin, get the fire going.” Thorin demanded.

“Right you are.” Oin replied.

“I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the hidden valley.” Gandalf replied.

I stopped listening to them when Bombur told me what he needed for dinner. I glanced up as Gandalf stomped off, muttering to himself. I started to worry about not having Gandalf with us. I figured with all these warriors around, we would be okay if anything happened to us, but it still didn’t feel right. As dinner was handed out, I found Dwalin sitting on a log by himself.

“Hey Dwalin, can I talk to you for a minute?” I tentatively asked. He glanced up at me and grunted making soup dribble out of his mouth. I sat down next to him. I didn’t know exactly how to word what I wanted to say without making it awkward.

“Lass would ya stop starin’ at me and spit it out.” Dwalin said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I looked down at my hands in my lap, “I was told that the clo-”

Fili and Kili came running into the campsite, cutting me off,  saying something about Mountain Trolls taking the ponies. Then they said that Bilbo went to free the ponies because he’s the company burglar. No one spoke for several seconds. Then, as if they were all slapped across the face they began to gather their weapons.

“Fili, Kili, lead the way.” We followed them, dashing into forest. We crouched down behind the bushes so we wouldn’t be seen. Bilbo wasn’t the easiest hobbit to spot, and it took us several minutes to find him until Fili pointed him out. Bilbo was trying to get a knife to cut the fence that held the horses, but he wasn’t having any luck. Out of nowhere, one of the trolls reached behind him. He was reaching for a rag, but he grabbed Bilbo instead. The nasty troll blew his nose on Bilbo: snot, boogers, the whole works. I wanted to vomit, but somehow restrained myself.

“Aah! Blimey! Bert! Bert, look what’s come out of me hooter! It’s got arms and legs and everything!” The troll yelled.

“What is it?” Bert asked.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like the way it wriggles around.” He promptly dropped Bilbo and, by the way he landed, I could tell it hurt. The trolls began asking Bilbo questions. The panicked look on his face brought Thorin to life. He started barking out instructions after that.

Just as they had decided to eat Bilbo, Thorin gave the signal to charge. Kili went, first slicing one of the trolls legs. All hell broke loose once the first drop of blood hit the ground. Everyone else was fighting; but I managed to get to the ponies and help Bilbo free them. As the last rope broke free, Bilbo and I were suddenly flung into the air. I remember looking into the disgusting face of the trolls before the world faded to black. When I woke up, we were hung over a fire by our feet. This wasn’t exactly how I pictured my death, but what can a girl do.

“Lay down your arms! Or we’ll rip their arms off!” I could tell they were aching for a fight, but they wouldn’t risk our lives. The trolls hogtied some of the dwarves to a spit over a fire, others were tied in bags, and I was left tied to a tree.

“I say we just squish em’ into jelly.” William said.

“No, they should be sauteed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage.” Bert said. Tom agreed with Bert.

“I think we should just skin the girl, and eat her now.” Tom said.

There were hollers of “Don’t you dare!”, “I will kill you if you hurt her!”, and “Ya’ better not touch the lass!” I glanced around at the dwarves, seeing how desperate they became. I felt helpless; all I could do was accept my fate.

“Wait! You’re making a terrible mistake.” Bilbo pipes up. Dori mumbled something about how he couldn’t reason with the Trolls because they were halfwits. “I meant with the…uh, with the…with the seasoning.” Bilbo replies.

“What do you mean?” Bert asked.

“Well, have you smelled them? They’re going to need something stronger than sage.” Bilbo answers. All the dwarves started to grumble and argue with Bilbo, but I understood what he meant.

“What do you know about cooking dwarves?” William asks. The trolls argued amongst themselves for a few minutes. “What is the secret for cooking dwarves?” Bilbo was floundering for an answer.

“You must skin them first!” He finally exclaimed. The trolls then started to argue more about what they should do.

“Nothing wrong with a bit of dwarf. Nice and crunchy!” Tom said as he lifted Bombur above his head to eat him.

“No! Stop! You can’t eat him!” I yelled struggling even harder to get out of my confines. All heads snapped towards me.

Tom stalked closer to me, “And why can’t I girlie?”  I gulped and glanced over at Dwalin. His eyes were wild with fear and something else I couldn’t quite place. He was straining even harder to get off of the spit now.

“Because that one’s got worms in his tubes.” Bilbo answered. Tom threw Bombur into the pile of dwarves. “They’ve all got worms. They’re riddled with parasites.” Once that was said, everyone started to protest and threaten Bilbo, but mainly Kili. Thorin kicked him to shut him up, once he realised Bilbo was stalling.

I could see the sun beginning to rise; we only had to stall for a little longer. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure coming up on the rocks.

“The dawn will take you all!” Gandalf yelled, cracking the rock to allow sunlight to shine on through. I watched on in awe as the trolls turned to stone while Gandalf helped the dwarves get out of their sacks and off the spit.

Once Fili and Kili were freed they ran over to me and cut the ropes. “Are you okay, Y/N?” Fili asked.

“I’m fine. I might have some rope burn, but I’ll survive.” Kili grabbed my wrists to check them over, making sure it wasn’t serious.

He gently ran his hands over the burns. “I’m sorry. This never should have happened to you.” I just shook my head.

“I chose to come with you guys. I chose to come help you fight, this wasn’t your fault. I promise I’m okay. I’m going to go see if Oin needs any help, okay?” I patted his back as I walked past him.

Oin was busy checking up on some of the others, so he told me to go check up on Dwalin. He was talking to his brother so I didn’t want to interrupt their conversation. I began to walk away, but Balin saw me.

“Everything okay lass?” Balin asked. Dwalin turned around to face me when his brother spoke.

“Yeah. Sorry to interrupt, but Oin told me to come and check on Dwalin.” Balin smiled knowing that I also needed to talk to him about the cloak. He said something to Dwalin that I couldn’t hear, then walked off. I shuffled closer to Dwalin, “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“Lass, m’ fine. And ye? Are ye hurt?” He asked. I bit my lip and looked down. I didn’t want him to worry that I was hurt. I shook my head no because I didn’t want him to see me as a weakling. “Well if that’s the-” he suddenly cut off grabbing my wrists, making me wince. He held them up so I could see what he was talking about. “What are these?” I looked down at my feet, suddenly finding them very interesting. I mumbled something about rope burns, hoping he wouldn’t hear. Dwalin sighed and ran his fingers over the burns. “D’they hurt? Do ye need any medicine for em’?”

“No. I should be fine, besides I’m supposed to be checking you. Not the other way around.” I chided. He chuckled. I looked away and gathered all the courage I had to continue the conversation from earlier. “Before things get crazy again, can I ask you something?” He just grunted and nodded his head for me to continue. “I found a cloak with my blankets the other night. I was told it was yours. Is that true?” I paused and looked at him. He looked almost sheepish as he nodded yes. I smiled and continued, “Well in that case thank you. But why did you give it to me? Don’t you need it?”

“I was on watch and saw that ye were shiverin’ even under all of yer blankets. I decided that I couldn’ let ya freeze. My brother would have my head if I did. So I gave it to ya lass.” He looked away at the end, like he was embarrassed. By the blush on his cheeks, I didn’t believe that Balin was the reason he gave it to me.

“Do you want it back?” I asked.

He smiled, “Nah, ye can keep it. Ye might need it again.” He winked. I blushed as I shook my head and watched him walk away.

Chapter 3 

Tag list: @fentah, @xxdragonagequeenxx, @perseny-blog, @captainrainbowpanda, @perseny-blog, @reignofglitter

[quarterfromcanon]

Breathless

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 19 - Rosé  [3,673 words]

They were nearly finished with their first glasses when Valencia circled to the topic of the wedding preparations that took over Heather’s house.

“So how's it going?” 

“All over the place. And also nowhere. It’s an avalanche of crap. There’s rare proof of results. I’m kinda worried about her.” Heather swirled the rosé and watched it settle back into stillness. “The venue’s hella pretty so I get wanting to have it there, but like, I’m reasonably sure moving things up this soon is a bad idea in all caps.”

“What she needs is a guidebook,” Valencia declared. “I had an entire binder.”

“Rebecca’s latest reference is some D.I.Y. wedding from Canada.” Heather polished off the remainder of her drink.

Valencia scoffed in dismissal. “Even those require more work than people realize.” 

“That’s what I said!”

“Plus, if the user who posted isn’t from anywhere near your hometown, then you can’t count on their resources to be applicable to you,” Valencia expounded. “Hell, if they’re from another country then I’m sure it’s even worse. They’ll have access to different shops and venues, not to mention the help of their families and friends. You can’t copy and paste their circumstances. It won’t come out the same. Guaranteed.”

“You gave all that a lot of thought,” Heather remarked.

“After a decade and a half with Josh, it was way more than thought. I had every piece in place except for the groom.” Valencia downed her wine and set it on a coaster. She shrugged. “Turns out, he didn’t paste so well, either. I still have the binder, though.”

“Really? You didn’t, like, burn it or throw it in the dumpster so you wouldn’t have to look at it again?”

“I was tempted,” Valencia conceded. “My hand was literally over the trash more than once, but I always kept myself from dropping the book. I did a lot of work rounding all that up, damn it. Why waste years of effort and attention to detail? Something useful ought to come out of what I went through. He could change my reality, but I didn’t want to let him take my dreams.”

“Good for you.” Heather raised her empty glass in approval.

“Can I show you everything?”

Heather freed her hands and adjusted her cardigan. “What’s that?”

“The binder,” Valencia clarified. “It’s still in my bedroom. Would you mind looking through it with me?”

Heather’s pulse quickened. The subject matter and the woman who wanted to discuss it struck her as a dangerous combination in light of recent overnight scenes from her subconscious. This was exactly what almost convinced her not to knock on Valencia’s door, but there was no retreat now. She could see how badly Valencia wanted to share what she had made. Heather didn’t have the will to deny her that wish. She traced the stem of the wine glass. “Yeah, we can do that. I’m game.”

Valencia disappeared through the open doorway. Heather accompanied her but stopped near the threshold. Valencia was already on her hands and knees beside the bed, rummaging underneath it. She faced opposite from the door and Heather was momentarily transfixed by the curve of her friend’s jeans. 

She averted her gaze, but the places it landed after that were not especially helpful distractions. Valencia’s mattress looked comfortable and warm in the patch of sunlight pouring through the shades. The picture they took together on Labor Day was at the edge of Valencia’s nightstand. Its presence made Heather’s heart skip a beat. She raced through a surprising number of thoughts in the span of seconds -- why that particular photo received a place of honor, why it was kept within view of where Valencia slept, what she might think or feel while looking at it -- but then Valencia’s words interrupted Heather’s reverie.

“Sorry,” Valencia apologized with a grunt. “It went too far last time. I shoved it against the wall.”

Heather blinked a very different mental picture from her mind and focused on the out-of-reach binder. “Do you want some help?”

“Yeah, go for it.” Valencia moved out of the way. She gestured for Heather to give it her best shot.

Heather joined Valencia on the floor and dropped onto her stomach. She crawled under the bed with her head tilted to the side and tried to extend her arm far enough to catch the spine of the binder between her fingers. Her duster caught on the metal of the frame. She had to pry herself from its clutches. Heather exhaled her vexation. “Hang on.”

She scooted in reverse, shed the cardigan, then resumed her pursuit of the elusive item.

“Almost... got it...”

“Girl, your entire back is out right now.”

Heather paused and realized she could feel the air of the room against a rather significant amount of skin. “I’ll get it in a minute.”

“It’s all right. I can fix that for you,” Valencia offered.

“I’ll be done in like two se--”

Heather’s eyes widened as Valencia’s fingers curled beside her rib cage to slide the shirt down where it belonged. When Valencia’s knuckles brushed her waist, Heather twitched involuntarily and bashed her ear against the underside of the bed. She hissed with a wince. 

“Shit.”

“Are you okay?”

Heather pressed her palm against the injured side of her head. “Yeah, I’m fine. I think I just figured something out, though.”

“What?”

Heather reemerged. She flipped to a seated position. “I’ve been coming at this from the wrong direction.” She propped herself up with her hands flat against the floor and put her legs under the mattress. Heather inched forward to gingerly search with the toes of her boots until they tapped against the binder. “Uh-huh. This’ll do the trick. Wait for it.”

Her shirt crept up her stomach as she strained to gain purchase. She couldn’t be certain because it was so fleeting, but Heather thought she saw Valencia’s gaze linger over her abs.

“Got it!” she announced. “So, now I’m just gonna...”

Heather crab-walked with the binder between her feet and finally brought it out of the shadows.

“Yay!” Valencia clapped. She hefted the tome into her arms. THE WEDDING BOOK was emblazoned across the front. She sat beside Heather and they leaned against the wall next to her closet. “Are you ready for this?”

Heather patted her thighs. “Put it here.”

They shared the weight of the book, half across Heather’s leg and the other on Valencia’s.

“Wow, it’s really heavy.” Heather lifted and lowered her kneecaps several times. “I could get a good workout with this. You weren’t kidding about having everything. I think you might be, like, the Tolstoy of wedding planners. That’s how many pages this thing has.”

Valencia laughed. “Well, I do like to be thorough.”

Heather licked her lips. She broke eye contact to look down at the first sheet. “Oh my god. Is that a table of contents? Wait, wait. Let me check the back. Yep, there’s an index, too. It’s a legit numbered and annotated book.”

Valencia elbowed her. She arched an eyebrow. “Are you finished commenting on my formatting?”

Heather hid a smile. “Take it away, Tolkien.”

Valencia rolled her eyes but her lips turned slightly at the corners. “So, the first few scans are actually before wedding prep begins. Layouts for engagement announcements, good locations for the accompanying photo shoot, recommended nearby photographers with their contact information, outfit inspo, and so on.”

Heather nodded and tried to concentrate on the assembled elements, but she was repeatedly drawn back to the person who had put it all together. Valencia spoke with obvious authority on the event. Bright enthusiasm came through in her voice. Her hands slid lovingly over every accumulated image and article of information. Heather herself had never so much as considered a style of dress, so she admittedly could not relate to the extensive construction of the fantasy. She hadn’t ruminated on post-nuptial domesticity, either, unless she counted the fictional scenario from her sleep that night during the Santa Ana winds (which she had been actively blocking out of her memory ever since). All that considered, however, the longing behind Valencia’s features caused a sympathetic pang in Heather just the same. 

Even though Valencia was over Josh, the fact remained that she wanted this. The gown, the veil, the ceremony and tradition of it, the gathering of loved ones, a devoted partner to share her life with -- it all brought her such audible and visible joy to imagine. Heather frowned. As they neared the end of the binder, she leaned her head against Valencia’s shoulder. The statement got caught in her mouth, slamming against deliberate resistance and uncertain implications, but the truth was more important than her insecurity. “I really hope you get your dream someday, V.” 

Valencia rested her cheek against Heather’s hair. “Thank you.” They remained that way for a brief while. Then Valencia closed the book with a resigned sigh. “Now that I’m looking at it with a new perspective, I think I’d probably scrap most of this. The vendor cards can stay, but the rest of it? Too much was for someone who’s not a factor anymore. Josh’s parents, his friends, his sisters... I knew they’d all be there determined to hate me, so the reception was where I was hoping to turn things around. It probably wouldn’t change their opinions much, but at least they’d be having a good time and not glaring from their tables. They’d end the night with fond memories, if nothing else. I’ll admit, the wedding itself was mostly for me, but you know what? I’m not a factor anymore, either. Or, at least, who I used to be isn’t. I’m... different. But maybe that’s not so bad.”

She looked down at Heather, who lifted her head and froze when they locked eyes. Valencia studied her vulnerable expression and became suddenly apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I completely dampened the mood. I was supposed to be helping you get away from weddings, not bringing them to you. Can I get you more wine?”

Heather concealed her disappointment with a forced smile. “Sure. That sounds great.”

“Awesome. Come on.” Valencia departed in the direction of their abandoned glasses. Heather uncomfortably shifted to cross her thighs. She took a deep breath and stood to follow her host. Though it happened without a conscious decision, Heather’s head turned for a parting glance at the bed before she left the room. She internally berated herself for that.

___

“Your ear is bleeding.”

“Huh?”

“Right there.” 

Valencia tried to point but her depth perception was no longer trustworthy. Her finger sank deep into Heather’s curls.

Heather snickered. “Missed.”

Valencia snorted. “Yeah, a little bit. It really is bloody, though, but like... dry.”

“Probably from your bed.” Heather took another drink.

“Aww! Is that what happened? Well, let me at least get some Neosporin for that.” Valencia shuffled toward the bathroom.

“Dude, you can’t even poke my ear right. How are you gonna put medicine on it?”

“Very carefully.”

They giggled. Heather leaned against the counter while she awaited her companion’s return. Valencia came back a couple of minutes later with an excessive dollop of the ointment on one fingertip and a circular bandage on the other. 

“Okay. This is going to be interesting. Don’t move.”

Heather swept her hair aside before she complied. Valencia rested the edge of her palm against Heather’s cheekbone to keep it steady. Her eyes squinted in concentration. A pink hint of tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth. Heather’s shoulders began to shake with suppressed laughter. Valencia gave her a teasing shove with the other hand. 

“That counts as moving.”

Heather tried without success to look serious. “Sorry.”

Valencia shifted her palm in a motion reminiscent of the hand on a clock, advancing by degrees, until at last her finger came into contact with the area of injury. “Hah! Nailed it.”

“Cool. I’ve gotta say, though, I’m not at all optimistic about that bandage.” Heather cast a wary glance at the plastic.

“Yeah, me either,” Valencia agreed. “Wish me luck.”

“You? I’m the one who’s gonna end up with adhesive in my hair.”

“Fair point. Good luck to you, too.”

“Comforting. I feel so much better about letting you do this.”

Valencia’s brows drew together. “Shh... You’re distracting the healer and she’s got a very important job to do. This is life or death stuff.”

Heather pantomimed zipping her lips.

“That’s better.”

It took several attempts including a couple of near-accidents involving stray strands, but then Valencia cupped Heather’s ear with both her hands and somehow managed to fold the bandage across the top.

“Ta-da!”

“Brilliant work, doc.” Heather plucked a sunflower out of the vase on the counter. She passed it to Valencia. “Job well done.”

Valencia blushed. She accepted the flower and put it immediately back in the water with the rest. “I’m very respected in my field.”

Heather inclined her head solemnly. They lapsed into silence, but then Heather tapped both hands against her denim shorts. “I should probably go home. I can’t avoid it forever.”

“You’re not going to drive, are you?”

“No, no. I walked. I’ll just head back the same way.” Heather ducked into Valencia’s bedroom to retrieve her cardigan off the floor.

“By yourself?”

“That’s how I traveled, yeah.” Heather clumsily shoved her arms into the sleeves.

“Not this time. I’m going with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Let me get my jacket.” Valencia grabbed the article of clothing in question and, with some difficulty, added it to her ensemble. She pocketed the key ring and tapped her fingers against her sides. “Off we go.”

___

Valencia wasn’t sure at what point during their stroll Heather talked her into taking the long way around or why she agreed to it, but eventually she realized they were in a part of West Covina she didn’t typically frequent.

“Where are we right now?”

“Getting close to my homework spot.” Heather walked up to a sign and pointed. “The Municipal Park.” They rounded the curve of the sidewalk. Heather gaped in amazement. “V, look! It’s empty. This never happens in the middle of the day.”

She walked across the vacant earth in long strides. Valencia followed at a distance. “Where are you going?”

“On a nostalgia trip. C’mon.” Heather approached the jungle gym.

“What does that even mean?” Valencia watched while Heather reached overhead to grasp the first beam of the monkey bars. “Are you sure this thing is made for adults?”

“Technically, no, but the metal portions will still support my weight.” Heather bent her legs at the knees to verify. “And I am gonna make good use of that sturdiness.”

She shucked her outermost garment again, but tied the sleeves around herself to keep track of it. Valencia stepped back so she had room to move. The crossing was more complicated since Heather could not easily judge the span of each transition, but her arms seemed up to the challenge of bearing her body aloft for a longer stretch of time. Valencia watched Heather’s biceps shift beneath her skin before she had to suppress a shiver.

Heather misjudged the next switch and whacked her knuckles against the bar. “Ah, fuck, that hit a vein.” She dropped lightly to the ground. “What did you do on the playground when you were little?”

Valencia counted activities on her fingers as she tried to remember. “Jump rope, hopscotch, four square... Oh, and one year our classroom got a couple of Skip-Its. The teacher had to schedule out turns to prevent fistfights.”

Heather’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, Skip-Its. I completely forgot about those things. So fun, but the counter hitting your ankle hurt like hell.”

Valencia nodded and chuckled. “So many bruises.”

“What about the stuff they’ve got here?” Heather prompted. “What would kid Valencia have ended up doing in this park?”

Valencia noticed the ladder to the lookout. “Well, I used to hang upside down sometimes. My legs were always stronger than my arms.”

“Do it.”

Valencia headed toward the bars without further consideration. “This is a terrible idea. You are a bad influence.”

“When I’ve been indulging in substances? Sometimes. But I’m a good spotter. I’ll stand directly in front of you. Try it.” Heather planted her feet firmly and waited.

Valencia ascended a few rungs, locked her calves across the other side, and started to lean backward. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.” They both winced as she uncurled her spine with great caution, but then her back straightened and she dangled vertically above the ground. “Wait. Nope, nope, nope. The world’s not supposed to start moving without me. Catch!”

Heather flinched when Valencia’s legs kicked past her face, but she dove forward quickly enough to secure a supporting grip against Valencia’s middle. Valencia felt Heather’s fingers graze just below her chest and her stomach clenched. She adjusted her jacket and cleared her throat, but she couldn’t step away from the embrace until the vertigo subsided. “Thanks,” she murmured once her surroundings returned to normal.

“Told you I’d be ready.” Heather hooked her thumbs through her belt loops. She wandered toward the swing set. “Did you ever play Spider?”

Valencia tilted her head. “Did I pretend to be a spider? Was that a thing?”

Heather regarded her with amusement. “No, dude. On the swings. I’ll show you.” She cautiously lowered herself onto a seat. “Now you climb on, and one of your legs goes on either side of me.”

Valencia’s eyebrows lifted. Sweat prickled over her pores. “You want me to what now?”

“It’s tricky even when you’re sober but it’s fun, I swear. I can help you get started.” Heather crooked a finger and beckoned. “Please? With one person it’s just, like, regular swinging.”

Valencia bit her lip. “Okay, but don’t you dare drop me.”

“Cross my heart and, well, hopefully none of the other stuff. I’m only twenty-six.” She tapped the chains on the swing. “Hold onto these while you put the first leg through. It keeps you steady. Kinda. Also, lead with your left. That way, the dominant leg is still supporting you.”

Valencia adhered to the instructions. She still swayed dangerously, but Heather was able to stabilize the shaking of the swing enough to restore balance. The second leg-up was even more hazardous. Valencia yelped and threw herself forward with the motion of the kick. Heather’s feet slipped from the dirt. They had to hold onto each other to keep from tumbling backward as the swing careened in no particular direction. Heather’s forehead touched Valencia’s clavicle. Valencia panted with relief that they had survived the takeoff and tried to ignore the way Heather’s proximity tingled at every point of contact. She gave her friend a subtle push.

“What happens now?”

“The next part doesn’t exactly look like the real thing because actual spiders don’t move like that, but it’s the only way to get the swing going, so that’s how it works. You alternate leg movements. Like, I hold mine out while you curl yours under, then you extend yours while I pull mine back. Get it?”

She demonstrated both. Valencia peered cautiously over the side to watch. “Yeah, I’m good. Full speed ahead.”

Heather grinned. She began the process, and Valencia followed her lead. The swing started to move in a recognizable arc.

“It’s working!” Valencia cried excitedly.

“Yep. Ready to kick it up a notch?” Heather’s smile became an adventurous smirk.

Valencia felt butterflies, which she willfully attributed to the rush of their successful endeavor. “Always.”

They picked up momentum, shouting and laughing harder the higher they soared. Valencia leaned away a bit more than she intended. Fear swooped into her gut when her torso pitched backward. Her co-pilot’s arm was around Valencia’s waist before she even had the chance to explain her panic. Heather held fast and eased the swing’s tempo back to something slow and easy. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

When they were nearly to a stop, Heather’s grip returned to the chain links. Their fingers accidentally overlapped, yet she did not adjust her hands to remedy that. Valencia became acutely aware of how little distance stretched between them. Heather’s eyes met hers, but Valencia had to look away. Her gaze fell instead to Heather’s mouth. Unbidden, the Santa Ana dream she’d vocally dismissed at the time resurfaced. 

Would Heather’s lips be as soft and sure against her own as she had unintentionally imagined? Could they fit together that perfectly, tangled into one form until nothing else mattered?

Was it her skewed perception, or was Heather angling closer?

Valencia forgot to breathe. Intense heat built between her thighs. Her heartbeat accelerated so frantically that she couldn’t perceive any other sound.

“I’m glad you taught me that,” she blurted. Valencia’s face burned at the evident strain in her tone. Although she did not know if the undercurrent had been one-sided, a small part of her hated that she had been the one to break their connection. 

Heather blinked. “Yeah, it’s a classic.”

Valencia tried in vain to disengage without aid, but in the end it was impossible to get back on her feet without Heather. The lack of personal space seemed altered somehow, awkward and fumbling. When they were both standing once more, Heather untied her cardigan and pulled it onto her torso. She strode beyond the park perimeter. Valencia hastened her steps to match the pace.

The pair returned to the cement path, walking without talking. Valencia’s insides felt leaden and they twisted with compunction. Her feet were equally under strain, so heavy in the state of remorse that she tripped over a break in the blocks. “Sorry,” Valencia mumbled after Heather turned to check on her. “I’m still a little unsteady, I guess.”

Heather modified her speed until they traveled side-by-side. She offered a reassuring nudge that lifted Valencia’s spirits in an instant. “It’s okay.” Heather’s smile was affectionate and patient. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

[secretsfromwholecloth]

So. *cracks knuckles* I just got finished playing Pillars of Eternity for the first time this morning. I have opinions. They’re under the cut.

The map and pausing functionalities and the “just click on who you want this character to attack and we’ll handle the rest” combat brought the gameplay closer to what I’m used to from roguelikes (extremely low-res so you can see a huge amount of the area on the screen at once, turn-based gameplay that doesn’t require you to react quickly or aim well) and made the game actually playable for me, and I wish they were, if not standard-issue, then a lot more common. I hadn’t played a definable ~video game~ since I was about eight, as much because of gameplay that’s Not For Me as because of bad memories attached to them, and that might not have been the case had I had things like this available to me before.

The setting is fun and intriguing, though I’m still sorting through my feelings about its handling of religion (which has a certain tinge of “we wanted the color and variety of a polytheistic pantheon without having to consider actual polytheism”). I’ll be happy to continue spending time in Eora as I play through Deadfire and whatever future games there are in the series. (PoE III: Yezuha, anyone?)

I’ll take the opportunity to experience something different on future playthroughs, but I really do like my Old Vailian moon godlike artist cipher. I started thinking about Clelia’s personality when @bloodilymerry mentioned that her Watcher was keeping Durance around to keep an eye on him—what would my Watcher’s reasoning be? Because that is something that needs explaining; that guy’s a douche. So I thought, I know, I’ll base her on my twenty-something self who thought someone with misogynistic and white supremacist tendencies could be turned if I was only nice enough to him. That eventually turned into her acquiring my gender (some shifting combination of woman and agender, as befits a Vailian godlike), ancestry (or the Eoran equivalent, Old Vailian mother and alternately overbearing and neglectful Ixamitec father), early-twenties relationship situation (see below), and more besides, as I used the character and her interactions with others to basically relitigate my twenties. (I won’t say the entire decade was a blank loss, but I won’t not say it, either; this process has been quite healing, in its way.)

Where, where, is my option to hug my companions? Or various other characters, like Adaryc? They all need so many hugs. I shouldn’t have to headcanon all the hugs. This isn’t right.

Speaking of the companions:

Aloth: I loved elves when I was active in Tolkien fandom (though I was always Team Aragorn as far as that went). Intellectually, I’m well aware that he’s an adorable woobie who needs lots of hugs. “Abuse survivor falls in with a religious group led by not-great people to get away and then has to escape again from their saviors”? Relatable, I know some of those feels all too well. A romance that explicitly breaks free from the relationship escalator and rejects the weight of societal expectations of what A Romance(tm) should be? It’s like they read my mind. My real-life sexual history is full of Aloths, sad little cuties who needed me, and in my day I befriended more of them besides. I love his VA and think he did a great job. So why did I take until the endgame to start warming to the character? I have no idea. I’m still sorting through that.

Edér: Oh, Edér, why won’t they let me hug you? So in case you can’t tell, I love the big man to death, and his usefulness in combat (he’s nearly indestructible when fully leveled and given well-chosen, nicely-enchanted gear—he took down Concelhaut by himself, with a little help from figurines, after the rest of the party was knocked out) is only part of the reason he never left my party. I went for the mayor ending with him, because encouraging his god-bothering tendencies just seems cruel in light of what’s going to happen in five years. (Side note: “Eder”, accented on the first syllable, is a Basque name meaning “handsome”, and it was one of the proposed names for a character from Forbears who’s also a traumatized war woobie. I eyebrowed mightily when I first heard about our man here.)

As much as I ship Edér/Watcher on general principles, he and Clelia aren’t actually that compatible as a romantic couple per se—we see in a few places that he likes his women less sweet and more fiery, probably because at least part of him sees himself as a big, dumb brute who’s slow to catch onto people’s signals and at risk for hurting women without realizing it if they don’t make their opinions known by getting in his face and yelling. I have a couple of levels of headcanons for what their relationship is like:

If we’re hewing fairly closely to game canon, he loves her to pieces, and her flashes of ferocious protectiveness are kind of hot, but she mostly trips his “tiny baby, must protect” circuits, and it’s a relief to watch her get better and grow into someone who needs less babysitting. She’ll be romancing Tekēhu in Deadfire; he’s happy for them, and her continued fangirling over Edér is background noise at this point, not even really awkward anymore.

If I allow my headcanons to take flight a bit, both of them being lonely, touch-starved, and kind of messed up when they met led to him indulging her when she would want to paw at him at night, because hey, it’s actually kind of nice, especially compared to the loneliness of before, and by time they fight Thaos, they’re having “friends doing a nice thing for each other” sex on the regular but know a Proper Romance isn’t in the cards. Over the course of Deadfire, she gets into a triad with Rekke and Tekēhu, with Edér back in his old role as the beloved friend she sleeps with sometimes, and before anyone says anything, “AFAB person with two boyfriends and another male friend who takes the occasional turn in hir bed” is a spot-on description of my relationship situation from ages 19 to 22, right down to the friend being older than the others and a huge stoner. He wasn’t nearly as good a person as Edér, though.

Obsidian have priors, you know. Just ask Star Wars fandom about Bao-Dur. Let us romance the war woobies, Obsidian.

Kana: Another one who never left the party, due in equal amounts to his usefulness on the battlefield and my emotional attachment to him. I demand the option to throw my arms around his waist and smoosh my face into his solar plexus, goddammit. Especially when it turns out that the Engwithans were kind of terrible and the ironclad evidence of Rauatai’s link to them is destroyed and it breaks his poor heart.

Kana, at first, didn’t resonate with me as an immigrant’s child, in part because his second-generation experience was very different from mine, with parents who viewed their heritage as something to protect him from, rather than enthusiastically passing it down like mine did. But by the late game, I’d come to a new understanding of what his deal was: He was raised with no connection to his parents’ heritage besides them telling him a few “pirate stories”. But in Rauatai, he was physically different and subject to racism, and no amount of loud, enthusiastic patriotism ever quite made that go away, which meant that his parents’ choice to not give him anything else to cling to, rather than smoothing his path to integration, left him feeling alone and adrift. So he latched onto ancient times for that sense of having a place in history, and specifically the Engwithans, viewed as “everyone’s ancestors” in much the same way as the real world’s Greeks and Romans (after all, the Glanfathans and their direct connection to them wouldn’t have been more than a name to him then). If there was a link between them and something as foundational to Rauatai as the Tanvii ora Toha, and moreover if it was him and his work bringing that knowledge to everyone, then maybe he’d finally be allowed that feeling of continuity and belonging. Maybe he’d finally make sense there.

Durance and Grieving Mother: Apparently they had the same writer. The same male writer. Meaning that this man had the opportunity to add two nuanced, fully explored characters to this fantasy world, and he chose to give us a violent incel and a woman with no thoughts of anything besides babies and motherhood. I’m genuinely quite uncomfortable with this and glad they have no equivalent in Deadfire. I didn’t much appreciate having to keep Durance in the party so much to advance his quest, either, and their one-dimensional characterization and stilted dialogue felt like a poor fit with the rest of the game.

Fuck you, Durance.

Pallegina: I’d hug her, but she might run me through with her sword for trying. I’ll let her come to me when she’s ready for hugs. Her absolute certainty and confidence (only shakable by a sexy aumaua woman flirting with her, apparently) are wonderful to see, but maybe one day she’ll form an identity for herself that isn’t so tied up in the Republics and their government.

Sagani: She’s every working mom who knows she’s doing the right thing but still regrets spending so much time away from her kids, and I love her and want to hug her a lot. Also, Itumaak is cute, but Edér, no, wait until he’s had more than two days to get to know you before you try to pet him!

Hiravias: Go have a bath before I hug you. And yes, the racism you face is terrible, but could you shut the hell up about Pallegina’s cloaca? And keep a lid on the lewd comments in general unless it’s someone you have that kind of relationship with? (It’s absolutely in character for someone that lonely to be both desperate to keep the first friends he’s made in years and inclined to push their boundaries and test them to see if they’ll just abandon him like everyone else. And he does absolutely need some hugs. Still, though, dude, not cute.)

Devil of Caroc: Totally needs a hug, but I’m not sure she’d appreciate me just going up to her and giving her one. We can show we care about each other by making snarky comments instead.

Zahua: Poor, poor Zahua. Needs a bath first, but then so, so many hugs. Tied with Edér for loveliest voice in the game—hey, you two want to banter some more so I can sit here and listen to your voices?

Maneha: Girl, come here so I can hug you. I agonized over whether to have her keep her memory or not; I was thoroughly OK with her forgetting it, but reading over the endings, I think the one where she remembers is nicer. Also, she had some of the cutest banter in my playthrough, both her flirtation with Pallegina and her growing friendship with Kana, but...what’s that accent? Northern Cities? Midwest? It works for her, she sounds adorable, and of course I wouldn’t expect someone with her history to sound exactly like Kana, but I wonder a little what they were going for.

Fuck you, Thaos, you’re the worst. Lady Webb, you had atrocious taste in men.

Fuck you too, Simoc.

Ondra is less nice than she thinks, and I look forward to getting on her nerves in Deadfire.

Speaking of which, let’s get started.