#live with the consequences of his actions and realise just what he has done and how he feels about his knight and lord harrington | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowercrowngods · 7 months

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⚔️ bard!eddie/knight!steve part 2 (~6k)

After the confrontation with Lord Harrington, Eddie is riddled with feelings of anger, guilt, and shame. At a lavish banquet, he finds his world turned on its head once more and he begins to understand just who his love really is.

⚔️ read part 1 here (~4k)

Eddie spends a maudlin few days wallowing in newly found misery and dramatically bemoaning the lack of inspiration and muse, to which his uncle merely instructs him to help him in the smithy, claiming that physical exertion would help with the wretched guilt.

Eddie is loath to let go of his feelings just yet, though, hoping they would turn into self-righteous anger at the Lord after all. But he has no such luck. Night after night of pondering the Lord’s words and the hurt expression Eddie was met with not even a fortnight ago leave not a shred of doubt as to who is at fault. For years, unwittingly or not.

But wit is not what will get him out of this mess, no. It can only be cleared by sincerity and vulnerability — something that Eddie has sworn to never show this town again, only worsening his predicament.

It tears away at him for days upon days, leaving him unable to sing, unable to play, unable even to sleep, cooped up though he is in the room of his childhood. It is a time he longs for with an aching heart, if only to take back his promise to never be vulnerable within these walls again, if only to be sure he doesn’t betray himself more than he betrayed Lord Harrington and both of their hearts.

Time, seemingly done with Eddie’s mental back and forth, eventually pulls the floor from beneath his feet one night when he finds a written invitation from Princess Chrissy to attend her banquet tomorrow night as both highly esteemed bard and dearly welcome guest.

At the banquet, Eddie knows, he will see Lord Harrington again, and there will be no way to avoid him any longer. He imagines there will be more scalding glances, more sharp words from a sharper tongue, and more of his honour questioned.

And the Lord would very well be in his right to do so.

With a deep sigh and an even deeper pit in his stomach, Eddie goes on his pitiful journey to find some rest beneath the sheets.

~*~*~

It is always a lavish affair when Princess Chrissy decides there is something to celebrate, and despite his nerves and a horrible anxiety that has been his steady but unwelcome companion all day, Eddie finds himself smiling at the view of the ballroom.

It occurs to him how far he has come as he takes it all in, his eyes surely wide as saucers at the display of grandeur and opulence before him. Men and women alike dressed in finest fabrics and the brightest of colours, servants bustling about with wine and delicacies for the Princess and her guests.

Years ago, the people of Hawkins took it upon themselves to chase him out of the city, and not even the Princess’s grace and friendship were enough to make him stay where clearly he was not wanted. And now here he is — highly esteemed bard and dearly welcome guest. He cannot help but feel vindicated and proud, having spited Hawkins and her people like this; he has sailed with pirates and travelled with adventurers, learned from master craftsmen and sung for emperors.

All of it to show this city that he is more. That he is better.

And yet, he reminds himself with a heavy heart, he cannot sing today, and Hawkins will be the victor once more.

Eddie reaches for a goblet of wine offered to him by a most curteous girl flashing him a shy but charming smile, and it is almost enough to improve his mood, almost enough yet for him to gain the courage to approach the Princess about his predicament. He follows the servant with his eyes as he brings the wine to his lips, stalling the inevitable just a second longer, when suddenly they fall on a familiar, tragically glorious figure clad in the deep blue colours of his family.

Lord Harrington, tinged in hues of gold more than anything else as the light of the flames dancing along the walls and ceiling alike catches in his hair in a way that Eddie has heard will make kings succumb to madness, is laughing along to the excited gesturing of a woman Eddie cannot seem to recognise. But it is not she who has caught his eye. It is Lord Harrington, standing there with a look so impossibly gentle and a dress so regal that it makes Eddie’s legs weak and his heart ache.

Where is that pompous air that Eddie remembers so well? When was it replaced with elegance and beauty so blinding, accompanied so wonderfully with that smile on his lips? And how can a man who has been wronged so endlessly still smile like this, look like this, hold himself like this? Like the world is but an old friend he likes to carry on his shoulders so it can have a better look at what is ahead.

Like the kindest songs must always have been about him, wittingly or not. Like he is more, so much more than what Eddie thought him to be. Like he is exactly who Eddie needs him to be. Wants him to be. Has dreamed him to be.

And still, despite the fondness in his eyes and the lavish joy displayed by everyone in the opulent room, Lord Harrington has a steady hand on the sword by his hip. It is only for display of his rank as a knight and as a Lord, likely blunt and too light for proper defence, let alone offensive strikes against a sudden enemy.

But Harrington’s hand is woven around the hilt. Clinging to it, as though reassured by its presence. As though anxious were he not to feel it by his side, cold metal and leather resting against his palm.

His words echo in Eddie’s head again. Making a mockery of me, stealing from me every chance to tell my tale in my own voice, in my own tempo. Entire kingdoms will know before I will have had the chance to wake up from a nightmare, and they sing about it, sing about pain they did not have the misfortune to suffer, sing with a smile, with booming voices because you make them. And yet the only one without a voice remains the one who slew the beast.

Stealing a man's right to flee from the horrors he lived through, acquainting every tavern in this kingdom and the next with his horrific and desperate deeds.

Can he not flee? Can he not lay down that feeling of horror even on a night like this? Need he cling to his sword, any sword, like that, even unconsciously? Did he forgt about the sword on his hip before the Knightmærs? Was it Eddie who made him cling, who kept him from forgetting, even for one night, that dangers tend not to lurk in the well-lit corners of a golden ballroom?

The guilt threatens to devour him wholly, and Eddie might just let it if only some of the weight were taken from Lord Harrington’s shoulders. Desperately, Eddie tears his gaze away from the Lord’s hand and back up again, travelling over ocean blue and sunset gold, drinking him in more hungrily than the wine in his hand.

As though summoned by Eddie’s pathetically beating heart, Lord Harrington chooses that exact moment to look up and away from his partner, and by some cruel twist of fate, out of the hundreds of eyes in this room, he meets Eddie’s. The gentleness fades, the smile paling into something tinged with regret, and it takes every ounce of strength Eddie has not to cross the room and fall to his knees to beg forgiveness.

He swallows and lifts the goblet to his lips once more, his breath hitching as Lord Harrington mirrors him, and they both take a slow, excruciating sip, their gazes never once wavering.

I will not sing tonight, Eddie promises, wondering if it is at all possible that Lord Harrington has the gift of clairvoyance and knows exactly what Eddie is thinking. I will do right by you, even if it is too late. Even if it costs everything.

In the end it is Lord Harrington who looks away first, his attention caught once more by his companion, and Eddie withers as he sees the gentleness returning to his gaze. He is not quick enough in tearing away his eyes, however, because Harrington’s companion, another bard, he assumes fom the look of her, turns towards him just a second later — and if looks could kill, Eddie would find himself dead six times over.

Fate does not possess the grace to let him die on the spot, however, the daggers in the bard’s eyes not sharp enough to end his life, but more than sufficient to snuff out any sense of bravery he could have possessed to approach Harrington anytime soon. Eddie finds himself almost grateful for the admittedly rather lame excuse that only comes to prove his cowardice, but he decides not to dwell on it for now.

Or he tries, as he downs the wine in one go and lets his eyes travel in search for familiar, friendly faces, and finding the Princess already approaching him with a smile so bright and warm it alleviates the anxiety thrumming through him.

“Eddie!” she says, smiling even wider when he remembers to bow before her — something they had to practice a lot when they were children and she would sneak away from her lessons and appearances to play with him instead. It feels like a lifetime ago; she is the prettiest person he knows — always has been, but she kept the spark of glee even as an adult. It makes him weak in the knees with happiness, having her friendship so deeply ingrained in his soul even after all this time.

Her eyes travel over his doublet made of silk so deeply red it appears black if the light plays a trick on your eyes. It is one of his finest possessions, and it takes everything within him not to preen in front of her.

“And to think of the way you scoffed so offhandedly when I told you ages ago that silk would suit you. You have grown to be so very handsome, my dearest friend, I can hardly take my eyes off you lest I have to fear your untimely disappearance once more.”

Eddie smiles, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks, entirely aware that he had not yet enough wine to solely blame it on that.

“I am here to stay for the time being, Your Highness, so fret not. If only to show Hawkins how right you were, my dear, for I do look fabulous in silk.”

Chrissy laughs, a joyful sound echoing through the hall and pulling many a pair of eyes toward them, but Eddie pays them no mind even as nervousness makes an eerie reappearance in the forefront of his mind.

“I cannot wait to hear you play tonight,” the Princess continues, unaware of Eddie’s dilemma. There must be something in his face, though, for she reaches out to take hold of his hand. “You will, right? Tell me you will, Eddie. What reason have you to look so filled with gloom?”

Eddie turns his hand to hold onto hers, propriety be damned even as he hears a gasp or two followed by scandalised whispering. For Hawkins, everything he does is scandalous, even merely existing. Holding the Princess’s hand is but another item on the list.

“Forgive me, my Princess, but I cannot play tonight.”

“But—“

“It is the Knightmærs that you long to hear, and it was always a dream to fill these halls with song sprung from my own feather, believe me. But it seems I am a fraud, and I need to do right by someone first before I will ever take to my lute again.” After a moment of silence he adds, “If you should like me to leave, I understand. But I will not sing.”

The Princess looks at him for a long time, reading something that might be written behind his eyes, but she keeps a hold of his hand.

“He sought you out, then.”

Eddie’s heart falls as he grasps the meaning of her words. She knows about Lord Harrington and his involuntary ties to Eddie’s renown. Everyone in this room might know, might have heard of his deeds, might have seen his wounds as he returned from the battlefield that seems to follow his every step, while Eddie was out in the world living a lavish life with the title he earned from another man’s tales of valour and agony.

“He did,” Eddie whispers. “And I need to make things right. He never deserved that.”

She frowns, a crease appearing between her brows that does nothing to hide her gentleness and beauty. “Never deserved that? But Eddie, you made a hero of him! You wove battles he fought out of he goodness of his heart and the bravery in his bones, wove them into tales grand enough to outlast even the passing of time itself! I know many a knight who would kill to be made into that kind of a hero.”

Even as she speaks, Eddie shakes his head, vehement to contradict her and make her see what he himself took so long to understand.

“It is not I who turned that man into a hero, my Princess, that was his own doing. What I did was turn him into a legend, turn him into something untouchable by real emotion when he… seems to be so full of them! I took his story, all of his stories, and made them my own, stole the words out of the deepest dungeons of his heart and wrote epic ballads about pain that is strong enough to bring the bravest man to his knees with sorrow and— I took from him what was only his to give. The right to grieve. The right to be his own person. The right to his story, his pain, his own consequences to come from actions he was forced into.”

Eddie swallows, beginning to understand, really, the scope of his actions as he speaks the words for the first time, and his throat rapidly closes up on him.

“I took all of that and made it my own, and in the end it was only I who gained something. And worst of all, he never complained to me. Never exploded in my face or, or exposed me for the fraud that I am. In fact, it was I who confronted him about disappearing whenever I would sing my Knightmærs, because I found myself with hurt pride and—“

A breath, forced into his lungs to keep the tears welling in his eyes from spilling.

“That man,” Eddie finishes with unsteady voice but iron conviction. “He deserves the world. He deserves better. He is a hero and he deserves to have a choice, but he is too good to make it. So I am making it for him.”

He tears his wandering gaze away from the silhouette that seems to always pull him in, no matter how hard he tries to stray, and lays them on the Princess.

“I am not playing tonight.”

Chrissy, too, has tears in her eyes after his speech, and she reaches up to cradle his face with both of her hands. Warmth floods Eddie where before he was bereft, and it takes everything in his power not to lean into her hold. Not when people are watching them. Gentleness like that is reserved for quiet, dark corners on stormy days long since past.

“Oh, Eddie,” she says, her laugh a little wet. “See how much you have grown. You are the best person I know; always have been. You are forgiven, my dearest, loveliest friend. I shall not make you play, and I shall not stand it if people disapprove of it.”

Relief washes over him, his body still trembling ever so slightly from his passionate outburst and fear of rejection, and he smiles as he casts his eyes down.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

She hums and wipes at the wetness beneath his eyes before retrieving her hands.

“Anything for you, Eddie. Anything in my power.” She turns to leave and Eddie has not the strength to ask her to stay, not when he knows she has royal etiquette to follow. But before leaving him to his heart still heavy with guilt, she speaks again, “It will be fine. I know it will.”

God, I hope so.

Eddie doesn’t dare to look and see if Lord Harrington and his bard were in earshot just now. Instead, he turns swiftly and retreats to one of the lavish balconies to clear his head with some fresh air. He finds it blissfully empty as he takes a trembling breath.

It will be fine. I know it will.

Eddie breathes, crisp air flooding his lungs that he does not feel all that deserving of, but he is grateful for it nonetheless. He cannot blink away the image of Lord Harrington’s downturned eyes, the smile that adorned his lips but a moment before fading in the face of Eddie’s presence. He cannot keep his heart from racing, hammering away rapidly at his ribcage, mimicking a spooked bird’s fluttering wings. Aiming to get out. Out, out, out, away from its hold and back where it belongs. Back to the man dressed in the blues of his family, the colour of his name, like armour against any sorts of attempts dared by lowly boys who think themselves to be bards of great renown.

It aches, his heart. And with every beat against his chest, the pain only carries further until it reaches his eyes with stinging force. It is a pain of guilt and sorrow, mixing with a longing so deep that it cuts him in half, torn though he is.

Just one more breath and the air will be enough to tear him apart down the middle, right through his heart that is long past saving. The feelings he has been harbouring for years for a love unknown have not disappeared with Lord Harrington’s accusations. Instead, they merely gained a face and a name, turned into something real. Shifted, just so, to make room for the reality of Lord Harrington and every tidbit of information Eddie can learn about him, even when he tries not to listen, even when he tries to let go of misguided emotion for a man whose heart he has broken and abused already.

But everyone talks about him. Now that Eddie knows where to look, he sees the respect for Lord Harrington in everyone’s faces. Sees the gratitude, sees the fondness, sees the reverence.

Eddie closes his eyes against it, but it only serves to make the images more vivid. Lord Harrington positively gleaming in that ballroom, shining as golden as the sun right before she bids the day farewell, looking so fondly upon his friend. His bard. His companion. Looking so regretfully upon Eddie. Looking until he could no longer bear it.

He needs to leave. It is sudden, that urge, filling the cracks of his being and glueing him back together with that all too familiar feeling that he’d thought himself to have moved past on the same day that he left Hawkins all those years ago. But it is back now, getting stronger by the second, urging him to leave, leave, leave.

He will talk to Lord Harrington and beg for his forgiveness later. Tomorrow, surely, or the day after. In a fortnight at the latest, or in a month. But for now, he has to leave. Needs to leave. Must.

On unsteady feet, and with an unsteadier heart yet, Eddie turns abruptly and all but stumbles his way back through the large doors and into the ballroom, which has filled with even more guests and even more servants and even more people who will steal the air from right beneath his nose.

It leaves him frazzled and shaking, and his heart falls anew when he realises that he needs to cross the room to leave.

As if pulled in by string or higher power, Eddie finds Lord Harrington immediately, the man’s broad back turned toward him. His hand still rests on his sword as he watches his friend — the bard with daggers in her eyes — approach the dais, lute in one hand and flute in the other. It’s a thin one, and made not of wood but of some kind of metal, and Eddie feels a flash of jealousy at her blatant display of talent and proficiency in more instruments than one. Even greater jealousy still when Lord Harrington keeps his attention on her — oh, and how well Eddie is acquainted with his attention, heavy and intense and leaving him hungry for more. Starving.

He yearns for it. Longs to approach the stage and join the other bard as she begins to play, if only to be in the vicinity of that attention. That affection. All that gentle intensity.

But he can’t.

So he turns, twisting away from the mirage he so longs to touch, feeling phantom tingles on his palms where he imagines strongly enough. Entangled in the web of guilt, longing and imagination, though, he twists a little too far and nearly falls over his feet in his haste to get away. And then he quite factually runs into a figure he’d hoped to never see again, much less share the same breath as them.

Before Eddie can utter an apology and continue on his way out of the ballroom and back to the safety of his childhood bedroom where the ceiling is a little closer to him and the air won’t feel quite as stuffy, Jason Carver’s voice cuts through the room and his patience alike.

“Munson,” Carver sneers, somehow managing to look down on Eddie even though they are of the same height. “So the rumours are proven true at last! I did not think you possessed the gall to show your face here again. But you seem to be a lot stupider than you let on — and you do let on a lot.”

The throng of people around Carver make themselves known with a vile chuckle at Eddie’s expense, and if he were a stronger man, if he were a more vicious man tonight and not hung up on guilt and longing, he’d have a snide comment on the tip of his tongue.

As it is, though, he stands no chance but to let Carver speak on. He seems to have climbed in rank, moved on from being a simple guardsman to someone wearing white silk and a decorative sword on his hip. It is more imposing than Harrington’s, the hand around the handle more like a threat to Eddie than anything else. Especially accompanied by that sneer. That godawful, entirely too punchable curl of his lips.

“Though the good Princess proves her taste in music and people once more, servicing her people and not letting you play on an occasion such as this. What a shame it would be for all of Hawkins to have your… talent… be showcased like that. What humiliation for you. I’m glad she chose a bard who can sing. And play. And entertain Her Majesty’s guests accordingly.”

Carver’s words cut deep, and there seems to be no end to them. It shows on his face, Eddie knows, but he can’t… Suddenly he’s young again, suddenly he knows no longer who he is, who he wants to be in this world and how we will get there. Suddenly the urge to run away is no longer gluing him together but tearing him apart, tearing him in every possible direction just to get away from Carver and his lackeys, until he will shred himself into a million pieces.

And still he has no words to retort the venom leaving Carver’s lips. He is shaking, fuming, something boiling inside him, and yet he has no words.

Just as Carver opens his mouth to spit yet more lies about Eddie and his craft that leave his ears ringing, something behind Eddie makes Carver’s big mouth snap shut with a loud clack.

Before Eddie can regain control over his mind and body to turn around and see what happened, a familiar voice fills the silence so blatantly left by Jason Carver.

“Such vile words from someone who knows neither talent nor skill himself, and who displays an utter lack of craftsmanship and tact.”

Lord Harrington speaks in such condescending tones with Carver that it makes Eddie freeze all over again, not daring to move lest he pull that condescension toward himself. And still he aches to turn around and drink him in.

He stands so close. Eddie can almost breathe him in, and it’s almost enough.

Before him, Jason flushes an angry red, unprepared to be confronted thusly by Lord Harrington, who outranks him in both title and popularity — and, perchance more importantly, in eloquence and intelligence.

Carver’s mouth remains firmly shut, but Lord Harrington is not done yet, it seems, as he moves from behind Eddie to his side, the hand on his sword so dangerously close to Eddie’s hip. It takes all his might not to sway and lean to the side just briefly, just to feel the warmth of his hand through his clothes.

“You know, Carver, I found myself pondering whether upon the arrival of Eddie the Bard you would find yourself starving for his attention once more, the same way that you did when you and your band chased him away.”

The blood freezes in Eddie’s veins and yet he feels flushed with heat, especially when people turn toward them with curious and scandalised eyes.

Lord Harrington is not perturbed, however. “And here you are indeed, yearning for his words directed at you, aching for his attention, and wishing at least one of his songs were dedicated to you, written in your honour. Unfortunately still, you wouldn’t know honour if it spat you in the face. And you have miscalculated, good man, for you are irrelevant to a muse such as his, and too much of a coward for heroic tales of valour and sacrifice. The only thing you know to sacrifice is my patience. You are of no greater importance to this world, this kingdom, and even this very moment, Jason, than an overgrown roach in a dead man’s kitchen.”

The noise that leaves Eddie’s throat is not as embarrassing as the one Carver makes, and covered, too, by several gasps sounding around them. Lord Harrington has drawn quite the crowd — and for once he doesn’t seem uncomfortable with it, smirking as he is, regarding Carver like he means every last word of what he just said.

It makes Eddie weak in the knees.

And Lord Harrington takes yet another step forwards, placing himself between Eddie and Carver, shielding him not only from the man’s words and presence, but directing the attention of those around them away from Eddie. Pulling it towards his own person and Jason’s form, trembling with anger and humiliation.

Eddie blinks, heart racing again, his mind running faster than a spooked race horse. Why would Harrington come to his rescue? Why would he pull all the attention toward himself when he should be rejoicing in seeing Eddie humiliated and beaten with his own weapon of choice? Why, when all the good Lord should want is to see Eddie fall from grace and from his high horse alike?

Jason is sputtering some kind of response, but Eddie is transfixed by ocean blue and sunset gold so close to him that he could melt into him if only he had the right. So transfixed, indeed, that he doesn’t hear what Jason has to say. It is only when Lord Harrington speaks again that the world returns to him.

“Leave the bard alone, Carver, you humiliate yourself with the way you’re leeching off his attention like a schoolboy with his first bout of attraction.” And then, closing the gap between them and speaking into Carver’s ear, just loud enough for Eddie to hear, Lord Harrington says, “Leave him alone. Speak of him again anything but praise, and I will have you emasculated per royal decree, and I shall see to it myself.”

Where before his face was flushed red, all the colour now leaves Carver’s face as he blanches and swallows heavily. He looks between Harrington and Eddie, confusion and fear so clear on his features that Eddie would grin if he weren’t so shaken by the Lord’s actions and words.

Carver takes flight the very moment Lord Harrington steps back, and suddenly Eddie finds himself alone with him.

And words have not yet returned to him, especially when Harrington turns and lets down the smirking mask of condescension and instead regards him with an expression of worry and gentleness.

“Are you all right?”

Eddie blinks, all but feeling the confusion and wonderment spill out of his big, dumb eyes, unable to hide it from Harrington and his golden skin.

This is the man who has slain the man possessed by the Devil himself and took in his younger sister to live with him and get an education. This is the man who protected the Princess and this whole kingdom so many times, slaying foes and beasts alike and returning home a hero who refused his own celebrations. This is the man who would be King if the world were anything like Eddie wants it to be.

The man who smiles so fondly, so gently, upon the people dear to him. The man who opens his estate in the winter to those whose houses stand no chance against the cold bitterness of the season, and thus defeats both lonesomeness and bleakness in one graceful gesture of kindness and compassion.

And still, this is the man who had his life twisted and glorified in song and poetry, the man who had the floor pulled from beneath his feet when his pain was made into something desirable. The man who stands in a ballroom filled with joyous laughter, wine, and dance, and keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword. The man who was wronged so endlessly by the ingenious bard who claimed to love him.

And yet. He stakes his claim. He stakes his claim on Eddie. Protects him. Rather publicly, too, and now everyone knows of a connection between them that doesn’t exist, a connection that Eddie snuffed out before it had the chance to spark because he was so obsessed with the notion of grandeur and drama and love. A love that would survive it all. A love that would slay beasts and brothers possessed, a love that would be immortalised in song and poem, a love that…

Would look at him the way Lord Harrington does.

But it’s not love. Eddie knows nothing about love. How could he, when he hurt the man so? How could he, when he cannot find even the simplest apology, when he cannot utter a single word with the way his throat is closing up on him so rapidly in the face of that tenderness.

“Eddie,” Harrington gathers him out of his reverie, a hand on his forearm. “Would you step outside with me?”

Another claim staked right through Eddie’s fluttering heart. He cannot bear it. Stands frozen to the ground.

“You need not have done that,” he says at last, his voice no louder than a whisper. It makes the Lord lean in closer, as though he has difficulty to hear Eddie otherwise, though he’d like to imagine that Harrington is just as drawn in by Eddie, and is powerless against it.

The man smiles, though there is no fondness in it, and Eddie wants to recoil.

“Jason wouldn’t know talent if it spat in his face. Which,” he adds as an afterthought, “is not a suggestion.”

Despite himself, Eddie smiles genuinely, feeling a bit of the ever-present tension lift from his shoulders. “Do my ears deceive me, or am I right in my understanding that you think I have talent, milord?”

The smile fades a little, leaving behind some hidden trace of genuineness that weighs so heavy in the air between them even as Harrington inclines his head politely. As though Eddie deserves politeness. As though he were of a higher standing than he is. And higher yet than Lord Harrington himself.

“I would have to call myself both fool and liar to claim otherwise,” he says, his tone shifted to match his posture. Reverent, almost. Eddie wants him to straighten those shoulders and look down on him again, to do everything in his power to stop the wild beating of his heart that still cuts the words right from his tongue. “You have a way with words that is yet to be matched.”

He looks up again when Eddie says nothing, and their eyes meet. Lord Harrington’s beauty is unmatched, and Eddie finds himself willing to look at him forever. Wanting. Longing.

Whatever spell the Lord found himself to be under until just a second ago, it shatters now, dissipates into thin air as his expression shutters. And where before it was Eddie’s words that dealt nothing but damage, now it is his silence, for Lord Harrington steps away from him with a regretful expression and inclines his head once more.

“Forgive me, I overstepped. I am aware of your opinion of me, believe me, I just… I simply… Forgive me. Please. Good night.”

He turns, his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword as though he were drowning in the ocean blue of his family name and the sword were keeping him afloat. Not a trace of pompous air emanates from him, and Eddie finally feels himself tearing in two as in that gold-sparked moment his knight and Lord Harrington become one right before Eddie’s eyes.

And the bard is helpless when he calls out, “My Lord.” Nothing, as Lord Harrington steps away from him. “Steve.”

He stops.

And so does time.

But Eddie didn’t think this far ahead, knows not what to say, how to make sense of the words trapped inside him that leave his hands trembling and his legs shaking, words that he needs to bring in the right order yet, lest he ruins everything again.

There is only the rapid thump-thump-thump of his heart against his ribcage and the eyes of their unwilling audience turned towards them. The eyes of people who want to see Eddie fail. Who want to see him flail and fall and crawl back into the winter’s night months after his birth, left outside his uncle’s doorstep as his father lost his life over years of debt he had no means to pay off.

“I…”

Words fail him. When he needs them most, when he needs them not as a weapon nor as a caress, they deceive him. And Eddie watches as his time runs out, like sand pouring between his fingers no matter how hard he tries to hold onto it.

He watches, desperately, as Lord Harrington tears himself away. As he weaves through the groups of people, reaching for a goblet of wine as he does, and downs it in one go before he reaches his bard where she is standing off to the side for a short break. He watches as she takes the Lord’s hands in hers and pulls him into a quiet corner and then through a large door onto one of the balconies.

He watches until his vision blurs with tears unshed. He watches until he can no longer stand it, and flees from the ballroom as more of a coward than ever before.

tagging: @itsall-taken @pukner @mugloversonly @devondespresso @hellion-child @fairytalesreality @maya-custodios-dionach @awkwardgravity1 @bubblemixer @paperbackribs @the-redthread @stevesbipanic @gregre369 @chaoticvictorianspirit @cuoredimuschio thank you for reading, i hope this was okay 🤍

#steddie fic #steddie #bard/knight #steve harrington #eddie munson #knight!steve harrington #bardknight #bard!eddie munson #i feel like this is more of a 6k words intermission but hear me out the bard is pathetic and needs to stew a little bit #live with the consequences of his actions and realise just what he has done and how he feels about his knight and lord harrington #skjdfsk i hope this is okay i really really hope so i am so worried that it's gonna disappoint y'all who've been waiting #dio words

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yourmoonie · 4 months

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How to live in the end

Are you feeling anxious about your upcoming photoshoot? Your exams? Sp? Or maybe an event that hasn't occurred yet?

I have got your back

1. Focus on your end goal and not on the "lack/circumstances"

Our fave stickman wants to go to Barbados, but instead of focusing on Barbados (aka the end goal) he starts focusing on not having the tickets or not having the money to buy the tickets (circumstances)

His entire attention is on the circumstance and not on the end goal

“Because of your belief in external things you think power into them by transferring the power that you are to the external thing. Realize you yourself are the power you have mistakenly given to outer conditions.” ― Neville Goddard, Your Faith is Your Fortune

2. Thinking from THE end

This is based on the timeline jumping method ( the thread, ♡ the visual thread )

So what do we do here?

Tickets are just the bridge of events for your end goal

We mentally go to Barbados and think FROM Barbados and not OF it

(That's how Neville manifested his trip, btw)

"Thinking from the end is the beginning of all miracles" - Neville Goddard

The art of thinking from the end is about internally seeing the world as you would see it if your desire has already been achieved, even if it hasn't physically manifested yet.

3. Not seeing any movement?

The stickman has got a photoshoot at MoonMoon studio in 2 weeks

On top of that the stickman is manifesting their desired body

> Out of the blue, the stickman gets anxious about their desired body and how they would look during the photoshoot because they "can't" see the results in the 3D

"The journey is in yourself. You travel along the highways of the inner world. Without inner movement, it is impossible to bring forth anything." - Neville Goddard

4. Think FROM & AFTER your desire

They become anxious about the photoshoot BUT

How can the stickman get out of that anxious state?

Instead of thinking OF the photoshoot, they will think FROM and AFTER the photoshoot

They will mentally imagine that the event has already occurred

5. How to get into the state

And they ask themselves this question

"How do I feel now when the photoshoot is done?"

"Wow, I like how the photos have turned out. I look so hot,"

They mentally prepare themselves for the best outcome and it helps them to get out of the anxious state

Inner action is an introverted sensation. If you will construct mentally a drama which implies that you have realised your objective, then close your eyes and drop your thoughts inward, centering your imagination all the while in the predetermined action and partake in that action, you will become a self-determined being.

6. You are THE observer

The Timeline jumping method in nutshell:

This is how you think FROM + After your desire

The observer effect in quantum physics states that where you direct your attention is where you place your energy. As a consequence, you affect the material world. - Joe Dispenza

“Imagination is the act of creation. Imagination creates reality." - Neville Goddard

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emotionaldisaster909 · 5 months

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Today’s episode was heartbreaking

We’ve seen so much of Xie Lian’s pain

So much of the fall of XianLe

But now

Will you tell me that it was all his fault?

The “consequence of his actions”?

So what should we blame him for?

For being a child against the most powerful and cruel ancient evil?

The one that lived 1000 years, destroyed all the gods and deceived the entire world?

Or was he too stubborn and not listened to other people?

Well let me tell you

XIE LIAN WAS NEVER WRONG FOR NOT LISTENING TO OTHERS.

Who should he have listened to?

That very evil that told him not to try and help his people?

His guoshi who knew everything and told him nothing but to sacrifice an innocent child in “penance” to that very evil?

Should he have crushed all youngans in one go, kill the poor starving people, led to desparation?

Should he have told his own desperate people that their cure was in murder and watch the inevitable massacre?

The only thing

The only thing that he should have seriously done differently

His biggest, most fatal mistake

He did

BY LISTENING TO SOMEONE WHO TOLD HIM HE WAS WRONG

ONE TIME.

He listened to his father.

The King of Xian Le.

When at the very beginning of it all they had an argument

Where Xie Lian insisted they should melt his golden statues and let the starving homeless people into his shrines

That’s EXACTLY what they should’ve done, but they did not

Because guess what the father said

We can’t. Because we did not build the shrines and the statues.

People of Xian Le did.

Do you want to disregard your people by doing that?

SAID THE KING

Knowing VERY WELL that he is talking about THE ROYALTY OF XIAN LE.

THE RITCH PEOPLE OF XIAN LE.

THE ONES WHO LET HIM RULE.

THE ONES WHO EASILY MIGHT TAKE HIS POWER

AND LIFE AWAY

IF HE DISPLEASES THEM.

But he knows how to PHRASE IT RIGHT to his son who CHERISHES HIS PEOPLE NO MATTER THE STATUS.

And who might very much not know the intricacies behind the ruler’s chambers.

Because Xie Lian

Was

Never

Meant

TO RULE.

He was raised to be a Martial God.

To fight demons and grant wishes.

NOT

TO RULE

A COUNTRY

BUT GUESS WHO

WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO RULE THE COUNTRY????

WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE SURE A HUGE PART OF IT WON’T STARVE TO DEATH?????

THE KING

And his son had to

ABANDON HEAVEN

To come deal with his mess

You can try blaming Xie Lian for not listening to the prayers from that part of Xian Le.

But he did not NOT listen.

He DID NOT HEAR.

Because the prayers system of “the ritcher - the louder” is inherently corrupt.

And growing up in a wealthy capital

Xie Lian must’ve not even SUSPECTED that there’ll be a part of his country so poor that no offerings would be enough for him to hear the prayers.

He did not know.

BUT THE KING

DID.

There’s no way he didn’t.

Yet does anyone

Does anyone in the book

And outside, anyone of the readers

Ever thought to blame him?

No.

Not even once have i seen this take.

Not even i realised it until recently. Thanks to my dear friend @3luecactuz

And why?

Because Xie Lian tells us the story.

And he himself

Completely believes

That it was all his fault.

When his only real fault was in not standing his ground

Agains the only person

Who held authority in his eyes.

Who was the authority in his life from the very beginning of it.

Who, no matter the future arguments, was the person he loved.

His father.

In the face of the greatest crisis he’s ever seen

Under the pressure to make the right choice for so many innocent lives

He gives in and listenes to a person who he not only inherently trusts

But who objectively had much more experience and knowledge than him

Who’s flaws he has not yet seen clearly enough. And never will.

Because this person raised him to be

Perfect.

And he failed.

Because no one is perfect.

And he believed in it in the wrong time and place. He gave in.

Decided to look for another solution.

And gave the evil orchestrating his demise just enough time to pull the first string.

Of many.

So tell me.

Really, tell me.

Did he deserve this?

Should he have listened more?

Should he have?

Or maybe

Just maybe

He needed someone

Who could have told him

To do what he thinks is right.

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percervall · 4 months

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Mamma mia, here I go again {pt10}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of homophobia, hinting at religious trauma Word count: 1479 Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @hiireadstuff @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @szobosz @vellicora @ystrolllll

Part 10 of the Mamma Mia series

As promised, the following morning the three of them show up to your hotel room with breakfast. You gratefully accept the take away mug Mark hands you as you let them in. It reminds you of that first conversation you had with the three of them at the beginning of September and you can’t help but feel a little emotional at how far you’ve come since then.

Sitting down at the small breakfast table in your room, you accept the smoothie bowl Kevin hands you. It’s a little cramped, but all four of you fit around it. Lewis and Kevin catch you up on how their teammates and some of their closer friends on the grid fared during the race while Mark fills in the gaps with what he’s heard from DC and Jenson.

“I can’t believe the FIA ever thought this weekend would go without a hitch. The fact that Pirelli set very strict pit stops windows tells you all you need to know, really,” you say, shaking your head.

“I’ve heard rumours that they’re looking at moving it later into the season to avoid these high temperatures,” Mark adds.

“That’s the least they can do. Greedy vultures,” you reply, muttering the last bit under your breath, earning a chuckle from Lewis.

“Wait,” you say, a realisation hitting you, “if we’re really doing this, does that mean I am also adopting an Australian rookie?” Mark laughs, head thrown back.

“I guess so. Hope you’re alright with that?”

“I mean, Mick has become like a little brother. Him and his family are the closest I have to one. Him and Jasmine; she’s my oldest friend. I-.. I cut contact with my parents when I was in my early twenties. They’re very religious and it got to a point where it became detrimental to my mental health to allow them access.” Even remembering their disappointment when you went into engineering and not pursued a career in teaching –which was deemed much more suitable for a woman by your parents– makes you feel about two inches tall. It was impossible to live up to their standards and their constant meddling in your love life to find you a man so you’d settle down and become the perfect little house wife messed with your perception of love a lot more than you even realised.

“That’s also why I completely panicked when I realised I am in love with all three of you,” you continue, pushing through the uneasiness of the memories, “A relationship is meant to be between one man and one woman according to them, and while I have done a lot of unlearning over the years, this took me by surprise.”

“Thank you for trusting us,” Kevin breaks the silence that follows. He rests a hand on your knee, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m trying. When you’ve been on your own for so long it’s hard to let people in. But I want this to work, not just for me but also for this little peanut,” you say, putting a hand on your stomach.

“We’ll follow your lead, sweetheart,” Mark says, to which Kevin and Lewis nod in agreement.

“I know we will have to let at least our teams know about what’s going on, but outside of that can we hold off until the end of the season? I hadn’t considered the logistics of dating three people and it’s a little overwhelming.”

“Works for me,” Kevin nods, “and how about we try to have a proper sit down dinner with the four of us at least once a week? We can think about next steps after the season, but that way we’ll at least see one another outside of the track.” You mull this over. It’s not a bad idea, even if it might prove difficult to get everyone in the same place without living together.

“I’d like that,” you reply.

“I don’t mind us using my house in Oxford for that. It’s got plenty of space for everyone,” Mark offers. You shoot him a thankful smile; staying in the UK as much as possible while you figure out next steps does make it a lot easier for you with regards to your responsibilities at the factory. The anxious flutter you had felt from the moment you had woken up is slowly disappearing, and in its place a calm washes over you. You know that it is not going to be easy, navigating this relationship with so much media attention and different moving parts, but you also know you owe it to this baby to at least try and make it work. There are five races left this season, and with the triple header coming up, you know it is going to be mayhem.

“Wanna call Toto together?” Lewis asks you, bringing you back to the present. You nod, but bite your lip.

“I just-.. Before we do, I just need to know that you’re all okay with raising a child that might possibly not be yours by blood. I know how Kevin feels, but..” you trail off.

“As long as they’re healthy and happy, I don’t mind. I just know that I am looking forward to doing this alongside you,” Mark says, pressing a kiss against your temple before getting up to go phone his boss.

“Same here baby. Family is more than just blood. I can’t wait to be one of three dads for peanut and spoil them and you,” Lewis reassures you.

The phone call with Mercedes went about as painless as could be. After what happened and your reaction on Sunday, Toto had his suspicions that the two of you had begun dating. The fact that Kevin and Mark were now also part of that didn’t seem to phase him whatsoever, or if it did your boss had the acting skills to not let it show. You did have to promise him to give Susie a call whenever you felt like you needed a girly chat.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Lewis muses, pulling you against him. You hum in agreement, content to just stay like this for a minute when the peace is rudely interrupted.

“No. No, you listen to me Gene,” Kevin seethes as he paces the length of your hotel room, “Do you genuinely think they are spying on Haas? We are dead fucking last, what kind of delusion are you smoking?” Kevin looks up and locks eyes with you. Without a moment's hesitation you get up from the couch and cross the room. Kevin holds out his hand and visibly relaxes ever so slightly when you lace your fingers together.

“Guenther had no issues with this relationship. What difference-..” He’s quiet for a moment as he listens to the team owner. Whatever excuse Gene is giving him, it’s the wrong one; Kevin’s eyes flare in anger as he clenches his jaw. A quiet fury simmers through your veins at the way Kevin is being treated. The magnitude of this feeling takes you by surprise, this notion of how you’d go to war for him –for all three of them. You know Kevin doesn’t need you to fight his battles, so instead of taking the phone from him to tell his team owner just what you think of him, you squeeze his hand.

“No, let me stop you there. I know my sponsors well enough to know that this won’t change anything financially. And even if it did, I am sure that there are plenty of brands who will gladly take their place if it means they can boast about their so-called diversity pledge. And if you talk about my family like that ever again, I quit.” Before Gene can even respond, Kevin hangs up and throws the phone onto the dining table. You take his face in your hands, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone before pulling him closer for a hug. Kevin wraps his arms tighter around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You alright, mate?” Mark asks. Kevin nods, taking a deep breath before straightening up.

“Steiner was no issue, surprisingly. Gene is a different story. Guenther had forwarded the information because it involves an employee of a rival, just out of courtesy. That fucking idiot first insulted my intelligence by saying how they are using me for information on Haas, and then began some rant about how this would cost the team money, and then came for me personally with some homophobic slurs I don’t feel like repeating.”

“I’m sorry man. If there’s anything we can do,” Lewis offers. Kevin nods gratefully.

“I’ll let you know.” You can feel your nose prickle with tears at how ready they are to help one another. The fact that Kevin referred to the four of you as his family isn’t lost on you, and it fills you with so much love and gratitude that despite everything, you have found a home in these three men.

I can't believe it's almost over, I have been working on this fic since October. There's an epilogue left which will come next week

Again, biggest thank you to @curiousthyme for being my beta reader. I would be lost without you babe 😘

Please let me know your thoughts, your comments, tags, and likes mean the absolute world to me 💜

#f1 fanfic #kevin magnussen x reader #kevin magnussen x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber x you #mamma mia fic

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plantsjustwannahavefun · 1 month

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I am once again begging Ed stans to understand that it's possible to love Ed and believe he deserves love AND also admit that he mistreated and tormented the crew during the Kraken era. Not only is this possible, this is the position the show wants you to have. You think Izzy deserved everything he got? Fine, whatever, forget about him for a minute. There's a whole crew in there you're supposed to empathise with and feel sympathy for, too. The six of them that Ed actively tried to kill or left for dead, for starters. Pay attention to the crew's experiences and reactions. They're shown to be traumatised, grieving, clinging to disassociation (Frenchie) and nihilism (Archie) as coping mechanisms and suffering from PTSD flashbacks. And, since this type of fans constantly go on about how it's racist to think Ed did anything wrong... what about the fact that a lot of the crew are PoC too? What then?

If you've watched the first 3 episodes of S2 and there was only one person on that ship you felt sorry for, then you're not a fan of OFMD, you're just a fan of Ed in isolation. And if the only way you can love Ed is by denying that he ever did anything wrong, then you're completely missing the point of the show. OFMD never said that people only deserve to be loved if they're morally perfect and flawless. The show doesn't subscribe to the dichotomy of Good vs Bad. Good people can do bad things. They can hurt the ones they love. Even if they didn't mean to, even if they themselves were suffering at the time, it doesn't mean they don't need to take responsibility for their actions or avoid the consequences. Stede didn't mean to hurt Mary and his kids when he left, but he still did. He had legitimate reasons for leaving, he didn't just do it for the lolz, but it was still wrong and Mary was right to be angry at him. And Stede needed to face up to this - not just for their sake but his too. Even though it turned out their lives were better off without him, reconciling with Mary was still crucial for his character development.

It was the same for Ed, it just didn't get handled quite as well due to lack of screentime, but the idea was the same. When Ed realises he'd been cruel to Fang and apologises, he isn't sinking into self-hatred and despair. Quite the contrary, this is a moment of growth for him. Because the fact is, just because you as a human being are inherently worthy of love doesn't mean you can go around hurting everyone and expecting them to put up with you. That's just not how it works. You don't need to be perfect, but you do need to listen to people when they tell you that you hurt them and apologise genuinely and try to be better. The show is very sympathetic to Ed but it does NOT excuse his actions. The crew aren't portrayed as villains or antagonists for being scared and angry at Ed for what he did to them. Even Stede was on their side with this one. If even Stede is able to see things from the crew's POV and have sympathy for them, then you should too. Stede doesn't love Ed because he sees Ed as a pure uwu angel. He loves Ed... because he just does. He loves being around him. They really click together. They have so much in common. That doesn't mean he approves of literally everything Ed has ever done. It just means he loves Ed despite that.

#another day of me being incapable of writing a Tumblr post without turning it into a novel #but I just saw another post from that one account and ugh #there's just something so depressing about this type of fans because they really miss the point of the show so badly #they honestly think that redemption isn't possible #that you can never get better as a person #that if you do something bad then you're condemned to be an Evil Person forever #which is a complete antithesis to the heart of the show #Ed is such a beautifully complex character #tbh I still think S2 did him a bit dirty due to the lack of screentime #but still #no wonder the Venn diagram of this type of Ed stans and Izzy antis is a circle #if they don't believe characters can change or be rendered than ofc they were never going to forgive Izzy or recognise his growth either #ofmd fandom critical #canon Ed appreciation post #crew of the revenge #ofmd #our flag means death

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thekingofwinterblog · 3 months

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The Kinslayings, an escalation of Pointless Violence

One thing I love about how Tolkien portrays the Kinslayings of the Feanorians, is how they tell a tale that ties into his ideas of how evil is an influencing force that will destroy a person over time if he ever tries to justify wickedness for "the greater good".

And he should know, as a man who fought and survived WW1, one of the most pointless wastes of human lives there ever was, justified by "othering" men with the same roots, religion and values as oneself in order to justify killing millions of them, as well as sending off an entire generation of young men to die for these hollow ideals, he would know a thing or teo about justifying wickedness "for the greater good".

The start of the first kinslaying is the only one that is arguably "Necessary" from a brutal, utilitarian perspective.

The Noldor need to get across the sea, meaning they either have to procure ships, or they have to walk across the deadly land bridge in the north.

So with these two options, if they choose to sail, they have 2 options. Either they get the ships that alreqdy exists one way or another, or they take the painstakingly longer road of making new ships themselves.

Now this second choice doesnt exactly line up neatly with an event that came later, but it very much brings to mind how during the war of the last alliance, the gathered forces of Arnor and Gil-galad spent years painstakingly making equipment, procuring food, and making battle plans for the campaign that would lead them to victory.

Now they didn't exactly have any easy options then like the Feanorians do, but it shows what Tolkien's message is. The hard road, with work, preparation and planning is the way to go.

But of course Feanor was not one such.

Instead when he was not allowed to borrow the ships, he and his responded with threats, then murder, as they slaughtered their own until just now friends and "Countrymen"(In as so far that they were all elves of Valinor".

It is a brutal, heartless afair that sours any and all goodwill they might have gotten from the Valar if they had done this in a better way, and has massive consequences for all elves who now find themselves barred from Valinor.

But that's not where it ends, because what follows is Escalation.

Feanor and his sons have gone down a path from which there is seemingly no going back from, and so, deciding that if he uses the boats to go back to valinor and ferry across the rest of his own people, his subjects, the people he hinself lead to kill their own comrades and friends, he leaves them to their own fate and burns the ships he stole down, in order to ensure that he would remain the unchallenged leader of the Noldor in Middle Earth.

Taking the boats, horrible, and evil though it was, was a genuine means to an end.

This is simply banal politics that not only split the Noldor at a time they really, really needed it, but probably cost hundreds of thousands of them their lives during the crossing of the Helcaraxë.

Its a slippery slope.

Once you give in to justifying evil for a cause, you will innevitably become more than willing to excuse other evil for it.

But you know what the best part is?

Acording to one version of the Kinslaying, One of Feanor's sons wanted to go back to Valinor, presumably to repent, and despite having sworn an "unbreakable oath", he was willing to go back on it because he came to realise that his actions were wrong.

And he was not killed by some divine bolt of lightning, but his own father lighting the ship he was on ablaze withouth knowing he was there.

Again, Tolkien makes his view on people who cling to "justifications" for evil quite clear.

The second Kinslaying is even worse than thw first, for it exposes absolutely everything for how it is.

It is important that this takes place AFTER the battle of unnumbered tears.

There is no glory left for the sons of Feanor at this point, for any chance of actually defeating Morgoth, avenging their grandfatger, father and all their now fallen brothers and reclaiming the silmarills by some glorious feat of arms has now passed.

They, and all the rest of beleriand now lives in the shadow of Morgoths innevitable victory, which he is taking his sweet time with.

But since there is small chance at taking the silmarills from Morgoth, they give up on that, because that is the hard road, and these men do not have the character of strength to actually take the hard road, which demands actual strength of character.

Instead they decide to target the one they can target, the one carried by King Dior, a man who has done them no harm, no injustice and by all accounts is a good man.

And they murder him. They kill his wife, and destroy his kingdom, one of the few realms that still exists and still fights the good fight against their supposed final enemy Morgoth.

And then, in an act of cruel and wicked spite, angry that this man had the gal to resist when they came to steal from him, and murdered his people, they take his two sons out in the woods, and leave them to starve or be slaughtered by wild animals.

But should we expect better? These men partook in all the ills of the first kinslaying, and so, are willing to cross any and all lines for their "great cause", for that is all that they have left.

Maedhros tries some repentence at this point, and decide to seek out the children his men left so cruelly to die, but he does not find them. The narratice does not reward him for this halfhearted attempt at redeeming himself if he is not willing to give up this vainglorious oath of his.

Which leads us to the final kinslaying, though i would argue there was a fourth one, which serves as the ending of this tale

The third kinslaying is the worst of all, and it is such an evil act that even some of their own troops, people who stood by them through the first kinslaying, the betraying with the burning ships, the tragedic defeat and aftermath of the battle of the unnumbered tears, and the second kinslaying, turns on them and tries to oppose them, having found the guts to do what none of the sons of feanor ever had and abandon this foolish quest.

Upon learning that Elwing, the only surviving member of Dior's family they unjustly slew is chilling with the survivors of the rest of the genocides of Beleriand, they decide, screw it, lets just sack this last remaining, undefended city, kill everyone we can, take the silmarill and sort out the consequnses later.

The previous kinslayings were unjust, evil, wicked, but they were military conflicts. There was a fight, regardless of how onesided they might have been.

The slaughter at the havens is anything but.

Is is genocide, snuffing out, or as good as, the last remaining survivors of Doriath, Gondolin and others.

If any of them survived this final sack, they were so few that their entire cultures effectively died out with them.

And once again, they are denied their price. They capture Elwings sons, Elros and Elrond to use as hostages in hope of negotiating back the silmarills.

With all of this in mind, the final chapter of this story is not particularily surprising.

For after the war of wrath is over, and the Valar's forces has done what they could not, and defeated Morgoth and taken back the silmarills, they are bluntly denied them when they try to claim them from the victorious forces, citing all their very evil deeds.

The two surviving brothers have a debate of what to do. Breaking their oath, or trying to fulfill it, either by once more trying to take them by force, or by going back to valinor and seeking pardon, hoping to once more get back the silmarills not by force of arms, but by showing themselves worthy of them after seeking redemption.

Of course, the first and last option would require actual strength of character, and so the two of them decide to take the two silmarills at hand by force, assuming they will die trying.

However, they are denied that death, and instead the commander, after they slay several of his men, decides to let them go with the silmarils, rather than respond with the death these two probably deserve at this point.

Their prize, as he expected, rejecta both of them.

The holy jewels they started this whole adventure to find, the ones they exterminated people to get, now violently rejects them for their evil deeds and character.

And in one, final set of utter and total showcase of what pathetic men they are, rather than abandoning the gems so that they could be returned to Valinor, they instead ensure that if they cant have them, nobody can.

Maedhras throws himself into a gaping, fiery chasm to ensure that both he and the Silmaril are lost beneath the earth.

Meanwhile Maglor throws his into the sea, to ensure the same thing, only chooses not to take his own life as well.

It is a last, spiteful set of acts that shows that neither of these men ever had the fortitude to do the right thing, and as a consequnce of their horrible oath, it all spiralled to this point, where even if told by the silmarills themselves how evil they have become, they still arent able or willing to do the right thing if it means going against their own oaths.

Because if they did, then that means that absolutely every, single evil, monstrous thing they and their brothers did was conpletely inexcusable, and they dont have the guts to do that.

It takes character to admit that you were wrong, owe up to your mistakes and take responsibility rather than clinging to the justification that brought you down this road to begin with. Or as Tolkien described both himself, his countrymen, and his enemies, all so similar to each other during the first world war.

"We were all Orcs in the great war" - J.R.R Tolkien.

#silmarillion #the silmarillion #feanor #sons of feanor #maedhros #maglor #meta #tolkien's legendarium #j r r tolkien

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leadingrebel · 2 years

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The Names of Power

It is said that there’s power in a name. Maybe because it carries context, maybe because it can be used as a leash to drag one around. Once a name is created, there’s no easy way of changing what comes with it. Nor cleaning it, if necessary.

Thinking about The Rings of Power dancing around Sauron’s identity, the characters spit his name with hatred or mutter it with fear and it is tossed around so much across all Middle-Earth.

But I find there’s a special treatment when it comes to Sauron’s character himself and his own name. And I like to think about it as my argument of how Sauron didn’t want to be Sauron again.

So based on the words of canon, I’m choosing to believe S1 happens in the era in which Sauron thought of redemption. And I think the name Sauron was a dead weight for him at that time.

I don't think he had planned any future for that name. I don't think he ever wanted to put back on the cape of Sauron, the one who failed even after Morgoth was gone, the one who was betrayed and killed by a creature beneath.

In the series, he repeatedly states his name as Halbrand: to Galadriel and to everyone in Númenor. But then he has that fight with the guild’s men and he becomes violent and vicious. And even in this state of overpowering four on one, of superiority, of his power being displayed, he says:

“Call me Halbrand.”

As if the name Halbrand should mean anything to them. He’s building another name the same way he has done with all the previous ones. So the next time those men hear the name Halbrand they’ll remember the taste of blood in their mouths.

You only build a name you intent to keep.

I don’t think Sauron can live without a name. With this, I mean I don’t think he can tolerate being spoken to as someone without respectable naming. Which is exactly what we see in all his interactions with the guild’s men. He can be a nobody, as he is arriving at Númenor, and play along under the crowns of other people (at least for a while), just as long as you respect his name.

If people won’t have respect for his name, they’ll learn to fear it. Which is what he’s crafting with his actions in this scene.

As opposed to this, when Adar asks him, he remains silent.

“Who are you?”

Admittedly, he can’t tell Adar he’s Sauron unless he’s going to kill him right after. But he also doesn’t say any other name. He doesn’t say anything.

And I think this is the first time that for a flashing moment he wants to be Sauron again, but only to Adar. He wants to be able to look at him in the eye and watch him be aware that this is vengeance. But he’s biting his tongue because he doesn’t want to be Sauron outside of that, much less to Galadriel who just fought beside him and made him feel something unexpected.

One would expect that to someone who’s had so many names, the importance of that concept would be lost over time. But I think with Sauron it’s quite the opposite. I think he found the power in it. I think he crafts his names the same way a warrior sharpens the edge of a blade. He holds them like a tool but also like a part of himself, and as such, carries the consequences of each name as unfading scars.

I think he realised that the real power is not the appearance, it’s the name.

Because it doesn’t matter the appearance you have, if the name is not wanted. It doesn’t matter that his body is Halbrand’s if his name is Sauron.

This is something that comes very much into light in the reveal. He knows the power a name has and he also knows how to use it, brandishing it or sheathing it.

In Eregion, when Galadriel demands him to tell her “who he is”, he answers:

“You know who I am.”

He doesn’t restate “I’m Halbrand” or any other name. And I’m sure this is partially him talking in half-truths as he always is around her, but I also think there’s more to it. Because his efforts of avoiding names continue through the scene.

“Tell me your name.”

“I have been awake since before the breaking of the first silence. In that time, I’ve had many names.”

She asks specifically for his name, and still he doesn’t give her one. He doesn’t call himself Sauron, he doesn’t allude to any names he knows she has spoken with venom. He’s confirming without doubt that he is who she thinks, but he’s not putting a name on it.

Because he wants her to see he’s more than a name.

“You know who I am.”

He tells her again in the raft. And again he doesn’t use any name. In between the lines there’s desperation like I’m not who you think I am, who you think and who you know are different so you’ve seen more of me than the name.

For all the time he has spent trying to convince her that he is not the King of the Southlands, that he is not “the hero she seeks”, that he is not as good as she thinks he is, now he has to do the complete opposite.

Drag her away from the dark shadows over the letters, convince her to look past the name, to forget it, to take Halbrand in its place if she wants, to take the King of the Southlands she wanted. A changed name, a new one.

And only when he’s exhausted all his arguments and pleadings and desperate truths and still Galadriel refuses him, he takes up the name of Sauron.

“When you tell them that Sauron lives because of you?”

He not only picks the name up from where he had let it fall, he puts force behind it. He’s taking name, history, context and cape and wielding it all like a weapon.

It is this moment, for me, that is the “Fine, make me your villain” of Sauron. Galadriel doesn’t believe he can be Halbrand, she’s only seeing Sauron, so he’ll be Sauron.

He tried to make a new name, externally free of history even if he carried the darkness of it inside; but now he’s realising there’s no changing name for him anymore. There’s no shape-shifting powerful enough that can hide the atrocities the name Sauron entails.

Maybe he thinks healing Middle-Earth can also heal his name, or at least give him an opportunity to craft a new one, away from darkness and closer to peace. That the forgiveness of the Valar will also carry the forgiveness of the people and thus a forgiveness on his name.

#The Rings of Power #TROP #TROP meta #Haladriel #Halbrand #Sauron #m: meta #tropmeta #if someone told me like three months ago I would be making Sauron meta #what an era we're leaving i swear

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doctorbrown · 5 months

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Rate your muse's traits from 1 to 10

Compassion: 8/10

Bitterness: 2/10 [Doc is not normally bitter about things, and if he is, he typically gets over it fairly quickly or seeks to resolve whatever landed him in the position of feeling that way in the first place if possible.]

Happiness: 9/10 [Especially post-pt.3 when he's got his family back in '85 with him. Doc's always been a positive guy with a great outlook on life. His darker moments/periods have come and went and by the time he's reached his sixties especially, he's just thriving and living his best life.]

Politeness: 4/10 [He can be polite when it calls for it but he'll also dispense with the politeness, especially when it's clearly forced, just as easily at this point in his life. He'll find a way to work some of his sass in there always.]

Chivalry: 7/10 [Doc's a chivalrous guy, he's of that time, never grown out of it, and it just feels right to him.]

Pride: 10/10 [Doc's extremely prideful, but not in a detrimental way. He's confident enough in his abilities and his intelligence and he's always so proud of his inventions when he creates them and is eager to show them off to his family or to Marty.]

Honesty: 7/10 [Doc is mostly honest, as he understands the value in being so in most cases. HOWEVER, that isn't to say that Doc isn't also comfortable with lying, for example regarding the nature of his experiments, his accomplishments, lying by omission regarding his past, lying about the business he created as a front for his experiments, insurance fraud, you name it. He'll lie as a means to an end but this is in situations where he believes that through his lies, he's doing more good in the end than harm. (See: terrorists and acquisition of plutonium.)]

Bravery: 10/10 [Doc will put himself in harm's way for his loved ones without hesitation, he's afraid of heights yet still scaled the Clock Tower to fix the cable to get Marty home, he put himself in danger for Clara's sake, the list goes on. Doc's an incredibly brave man.]

Recklessness: 5/10 [Reckless in the name of scientific pursuits, but also a member of the Fuck Around and Find Out Club on occasion. But this is tricky, because yes, Doc can indeed be reckless, but he's not dangerous, as he always takes safety measures into account with his experiments. He's not truly reckless because he DOES think things through and consider the consequences of his actions (if he can foresee them) and usually attempts to have safety measures in place.]

Ambition: 10/10 [Ambition is the name of the thirty year long game. Everything Doc has done was ambitious, from his young acceptance into university, to his studying on his own to have the requisite knowledge for his experiments, to his completion of the time machine. He thrives off seeing things to completion through hard work and won't stop until he's hit a permanent wall or completed it.]

Loyalty: 10/10 [Doc's extremely loyal to the people he loves and there's no getting around that. He won't sell them out, he'd sooner take the brunt of whatever was coming upon himself to spare them. And even if he hides some things sometimes (knowledge in pt.3 of Marty's abysmal future and the cause of it) it's ultimately for his own good.]

Love: 9/10 [Doc's got a huge heart if you let him show you that and learn his particular way of expressing that love.]

Sense of family: 9/10 [First, the dogs. Then, before he even realises that's what is happening with Marty, he's already started to see the kid as part of his family, toeing the line between son and friend. This only grows exponentially during his nearly ten year stint in the Nineteenth Century when he adds Clara and his two boys to the family.]

Attractiveness: 5/10 [I would arguably put Doc at a much higher level than this personally but to most people, their immediate view of him is that he's homely, he's eccentric, he's not all that charming, so they miss all the things about him that do actually make him a rather attractive man.]

Agility: 7/10 [Doc'll throw you for a loop. He's in better shape than a man his age would ever be expected to be, he's faster than you expect, he can run longer than you'd think he can.]

Sex drive: 2/10 [To be changed accordingly once Clara comes into the picture.]

tagged by: @dynamoprotocol (thank you!!) tagging: you!!

#&; a great idea can change the world 「 hc 」#&; this proves my theory! 「 dash games 」#aaaa ty for this it was super fun!!#and i can change these all depending on where we are and i just want to talk about him constantly ugh

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shiplessoceans · 8 months

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Alright, with episodes 6 and 7 dropping in a matter of hours, here is my brain dump of what I think might happen leading into the end of the season.

SPOILERS FOR UP TO EPISODE 5 OF SEASON 2 OF OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH

---

Okay, so Ed and Stede are rebuilding their relationship, the crew are cool with Ed now as long as Stede says he's okay because they trust that Stede wouldn't let them be hurt. All our couples are happy and thriving and Izzy is stepping into his own, working out who he is out of Blackbeard's shadow.

So if everything is heading toward a happy ending, where does the narrative tension come from for the end of the season? David Jenkins has alluded that the planned arc would take three seasons to complete. Maybe he's not optimistic about a third season given the budget cuts for season two but I think we have a good shot.

I have two possibilities in mind for how the season might end:

Scenario #1:

In creating a more mature relationship, Ed and Stede can finally imagine spending the rest of their lives together and envision what that might look like. Only to realise they don't actually want the same things.

Blackbeard is done with piracy. I don't think Ed chose this life as much as he fell into it and realised he was good at it. In his imagined fantasies he wants to settle down on land and open a restaurant or an inn and be a regular dude with some keys and have a safe predictable life for a change.

Stede meanwhile, lived the safe life his whole life. He dreamt of piracy to escape the drudgery and he finally has what he always wanted. Excitement, adventure, a found family pirate crew and he's coming into his own as a natural born leader. Getting to experience daily the total exhilaration that comes from facing danger and living to tell about it.

Stede loves being a pirate and Ed doesn't. Ed wants a quiet life and Stede doesn't.

Even more heartbreaking, Ed would never want to take Stede away from the Revenge and his crew. And Stede would never want Ed to stay on board just for him.

Ed and Stede have helped each other to grow without realising they may have grown past each other. That may be where we leave them. Unsure as to how they proceed as a couple or even if they can.

Season 3 would be them finding a compromise.

(In my head, Ed and Stede invent cruise ships. Floating hotel and restaurant anyone?)

Scenario #2:

Everything is great, we are all about to live happily ever after and sail into the sunset and wait what's that? Ah. It's the consequences of our own actions.

The crew might have forgiven Ed but the rest of the world hasn't. Our faves are ambushed or betrayed (because that reward on Blackbeard's wanted poster is a big temptation) and Ed is captured, awaiting his death sentence. All the pirates gear up and rally to go save Blackbeard and that's where we end it leading into the final season.

Another prediction I have that I hope like hell is wrong...

We have had a lot of 'OMG I thought you were dead but you miraculously survived!' this season. I'm worried this means we might actually lose someone in the finale. Maybe someone is killed in battle which would raise the stakes again going into season 3 and now that our pirates have dealt with their trauma and own interpersonal issues, they are forced to reckon with the real enemy. The ruling class and social establishment that forces pirates to live on the fringes. The English, most likely.

Aight. I'm gonna peace out and hope like hell that by speaking this here that I have ensured none of this comes true because ow.

#ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd speculation #ofmd s2 #ofmd spoilers #our flag means death spoilers #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd meta #ofmd predictions

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icantspellthings · 6 days

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The thing that I really like about The Boys as a show is that there is no *truly* evil characters, there is nobody so irredeemable and 100% an evil asshole piece of shit for the sake of being one (well except stormfront but we're ignoring her).

Like with A-train at first when we met him, he was this fame obsessed adrenaline junkie who is only focused on winning/being number one and his popularity. He literally killed Robin and was totally set up to be the "main bad guy". But as the series went on, we actually see his character fleshed out more. There are nuances to his actions that yes were done out of selfishness, but if you looked at it from his perspective he is nothing without the Seven, he is nothing without his fame and money, he wants so desperately to not fall into poverty and irrelevancy anymore that he would fight tooth and nail just to maintain statusquo. And we start to see he realises the consequences of his actions whis brother got hurt and he apologised to hughie. Does it makes A-train a "Good" person? No but it certainly makes him a more sympathetic character.

Other characters, too, like The Deep who is a fucking rapist who you are primed to HATE right from the start for what he did to Annie. But as time goes on, your hate starts to lessen and transform into pity. At his core, Kevin is pathetic, insecure, and quite frankly a very idiotic and gullible man. He sexually assults other to gain power over them, does this make his actions justifiable, No. But it does make his actions understandable. He isn't a good person but he's a good *character* because he isn't just this 100% evil caricature of a person, he has nuances and contradictions and sometimes even sympathetic moments.

I could go on and on and on about the other characters in The Seven or even all the other minor villains. How they're actually fleshed out characters instead of just one dimensional villains. And also the inverness of the good guys not being saintly, can never do wrongers, always doing the right thing. They're the protagonists, but that doesn't make them perfect people. Case in point with butcher!!! And how he drags hughie down to his level of "doing anything for the mission." The way butcher uses MMs obsession against him to literally drag him back into his revenge plot despite the fact that MM just wants to live a normal life with his daughter and literally had ro rebuild his life from nothing 3 times! Now thanks to butcher, the man is a grade A CUNT who manipulates the people around him for his own gains! Yeah it's "for the greater good" but it's still not a nice way to treat your friends

Hell even fucking annie who the show sets up as this pure saintly paragon of goodness and kindness fucks up. Half the time she doesn't know what the fuck she is even doing just stumbling along trying to do what she thinks is best. Hell most of the time her plans doesn't work out or activity makes things worse! AND THATS OKAY!

BECAUSE I LOVE THEM ALL SO MUCH! because they're so painfully human, they make mistakes, they try to seek forgiveness but somethings can't be forgiven. They try their best but somtimes it makes things worse. They have a characters arc but then will walk back 20 steps until they become even worse because its the essence of what being human means! We all make mistakes, progress isn't linear. Sometimes, you take 1 step forward and then 40 steps back until all improvements are undone and you're back at the same point possibly even worse of. But you keep trudging forward because you're alive and you're human and the least you can do is wake up another day and try your damnest.

Its what I love so much about this show, everyone is SO SO SO painfully human.

#the boys tv #the boys #sorry that was a long ass ramble lmao #billy butcher #mother's milk #the deep #a-train #annie january #hughie campbell

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bird-inacage · 7 months

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Frankly speaking I have a completely different take on Sands behaviour at the end of ep 11. While it's true that Sand is a kind person it's stated repeatedly in the show that Sand always chooses to set up boundaries (with harsh words and actions of ignoring contact attempts) if Ray has done some shit. Sand is only not able to maintain the boundaries if one is persistent and knocks on it repeatedly. That's why Ray went feral and choose confrontation by inviting Boeing over so that Sand has to be clear even at the risk of loosing Sand if he states that he is still hung up on Boeing. Ray was hurt because over the evening Sand has spoken only two weak sarcastic sentences to Boeing and in the end offers him friendship. In Rays logic how can Sand do this if he bluntly denied Ray friendship at the beginning of ep 8. At that time Sand closed of, they weren't a thing when Ray started to attempt to date Mew. But Boeing dumped Sand which in Sands eyes should be seen as a bigger hurtful action than what Ray did and despite that Sand still wants to be friends with Boeing. I assume Ray thinks that Sands lingering feelings for Boeing is still so strong that he is way more lenient towards Boeing than he was to Ray and that's what he cannot accept and got him fuming hence the invitation. Ray was ready to burn all the bridges equal to his outburst in ep 6, he is just not as loud and screaming because this time he is sober.

Hello Anon,

No worries, it's completely fine if you do. It's always interesting to me to hear how other people have interpreted the scenes.

Firstly, I agree that Sand does try to set boundaries but often struggles to maintain them. Boundary-setting in relationships is almost always fuelled by emotion. Because of that, Sand tends to fail because he's empathetic. He doesn't like hurting people, no matter how detrimental the consequences may be on him in return.

In my opinion Ray is refreshingly sober in this scene. I don't see his choice to invite Boeing home as being feral, impulsive or an attempt to burn bridges like he did in Episode 6. Rather, I think Ray does so with a game plan in mind, in order to seize control from Boeing pulling all the strings. He wants to test Boeing on his terms and on his turf. I also don't think that by doing so, Ray is accepting the risk of losing Sand by forcing him to choose between them. Ray's entire arc in Episode 10 and 11 focused on him realising just how much Sand means to him and how much Sand's done for him. He literally says he can't live without him. So Ray's not prepared to lose Sand at all. Especially not now. Regardless of whether Sand still has any residual feelings for Boeing or not - Ray is going to fight for him, not surrender.

Secondly, if we're trying to deem whose actions were more hurtful (towards Sand) between Ray and Boeing, and whether that justifies Sand's reactions, it's not as simple as just comparing the two. Boeing and Ray are very different people. Ray is brash, confrontational and brutally honest. Whereas Boeing seems cool, considered, and deceptive. How Sand approaches each person will vastly differ. The way he handles Ray is coloured by previous experience. Having been hurt before by Boeing, Sand will be more defensive to being hurt once again. If Sand's behaviour with Boeing appears more 'lenient', this doesn't necessarily mean he's still in love with him, or that he loves Ray any less.

(I wouldn't take Sand's comment of offering Boeing friendship too seriously. That very much felt like Sand's way of being polite).

There's a huge difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. Ray himself has said, "But Mew is important to me. It's not easy for me to get over him." If it turns out that Sand is also struggling to do the same with Boeing - Ray's not going to be very happy about it, but I'd like to think that he of all people should understand what that's like.

To me, Ray's anger is largely because he can detect that Boeing has sinister intentions, intentions that exploit Sand's good nature. And Sand appears unable to deter Boeing completely on his own, whether that's because of their history, or for other reasons we are yet to see. This is where Ray feels it necessary to intercede in order to protect both Sand and their relationship.

---birdie

#bird-inacage asks #only friends #only friends the series #ofts #ray x sand #sand x ray

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asumofwords · 1 year

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I'm so curious as to what went on in his head tbh, like especially when he was bathing her, looking at the damage his brother caused, her bruises, her broken state, I have a feeling he went insane when cleaning in between her thighs, dried up blood and his brother's seed. Like the consequences of your actions are here 💀 (Pls don't take this as a pressure to write aemond's pov, this is just me doing silly wondering)

I wish aemond could've at least done something like given her extra protection or have a spy on aegon because he had to go to harrenhal and aegon threatened treason. Yet he did none of that and left the reader unprotected because he had a false confidence that his brother wouldn't dare.

I just hope he felt guilty, especially when the the reader said “you left me with him, whilst you went to your alys” like yeah bro.

Imagine if he would've been able to return on the day of the assault but alys begged him to spend time with her and he did, being a little slower, now imagine realising that he could've prevented it if he hasn't stayed back, THAT WOULD BE SUCH A HARD PUNCH IN THE FACE.

I don't want aemond to die, I want him to live with guilt of what had happened, how he caused everything, because to be frank, death is way too merciful for him, he needs to go through the mental anguish and pain. Idk if you know fnaf (five nights at freddy) but there's a dialogue by an animatronic in one of it's game where she goes like:

“you won't die, but you'll wish you could.”

Basically saying that she'll put them through so much torture where death seems more peaceful than whatever she's putting them through, Me to aemond and aegon 👹👹 slightly more to aegon because I have a soft spot for aemond even though I hate him just because he's slightly better than aegon tbh (this is high evidence of the 'the devil you know is better than the devil you dont' quote in action)

SORRY FOR THE RANT AND THIS BIG ASS MESSAGE TEE, I had a lot on my mind after that, I LOVE YOUR FIC AND ILYSM 🐇🩷🩷

I absolutely adore you 😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺 my lil heart seeing this message like 🥰🥰🥰🥰

OKAY SO

Aemond was horrified when he arrived back (working on a short Drabble as I don’t have capacity for a full POV atm) to see the reader the way she was. He knew something was wrong and literally sprinted through the Keep to her.

His heart broke and for once Aemond felt guilt about what he had put the reader through (ironic because it was Aegon) and he was absolutely losing it in his mind.

When he cleaned the blood and seed off of her, it was his own way of fixing her and feeling in control of a situation that he also has no control in. Despite being a Prince and Aegon’s brother, he still really doesn’t have too much sway if Aegon keeps sending him away. He’s a second son, nothing more.

But the biggest thing he felt in that moment was rage.

She was his. His wife. His love. His. And to have Aegon touch her, to take her in a way that was supposed to be just for him. To hurt her and defile her and break her, Aemond was struggling to not kill his brother in that moment.

They both need to be flayed !!!!!

🖤🖤🖤 adore you sweetheart

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clubwnderland · 1 year

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⤷⋆⋆ 𝑮𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 ♡

[pt one][pt two][pt three][pt four]

[This plot contains abuse, gaslighting, violence, kidnapping, and mentions of SA, injuries and blood. Read at your own risk]

TEN DAYS ABDUCTED

There's a cheer as Jangmi walks out into the large hall, the main event has arrived and all these powerful men cannot wait to see what she has in store.

Her abuser, the man who forces her to call her Master once more, walks her through the crowd. Jangmi knows the role she must play, the bruises have finally healed and she doesn't want to have more due to disobedience, so her head is held high. The diamond studded leather collar rubs against her skin, even though it's meant to be of high quality, it feels cheap.

She feels cheap.

A possession to be shown off. Dressed in a deep green satin two piece, expensive pieces adorning her slim body with her make-up and hair done by the most talented women the man could buy - Jangmi is nothing more than another prized piece in his collection once more. She has to be a good girl, well-mannered and well-behaved, otherwise he will discard of her like a broken toy and Jangmi hopes to make it out of this place alive.

She's sure, absolutely sure, that her friends are working to bring her home. It's the only hope that she has as each day passes, that they haven't given up on her.

"She'd make a pretty whore." She hears a man whisper to another as their eyes slowly move over her body and undress her with their stares. "I hear he used to charge a high price for one night with his so-called favourite trophy."

The other man snickers, watching her turn to face the crowd when she comes to stand behind her 'master' as he's about to address the crowd. "Thank you for all your investments and hard work, we are making paths that nobody has been able to do before and through recent innovations, will continue to do so." There's a round of applause and Jangmi feels her stomach churn, feels disgust towards each and every single person in this room for what she knows is about to happen. How could all the wealthy, powerful men sit there and be okay with this?

Ah, because they are untouchable, that's why. They won't ever know the consequences of their actions.

The more he talks, the more the bile starts to rise in Jangmi's through and she's absolutely sure that she's about to throw up any moment. She doesn't want to be here, she doesn't want to do this. Run, that's all her brain is telling her to do as he holds out his hand and gestures for her to step forward and take it. Run, but her feet are frozen in place because where would she go? They'd catch her before she even made it to the door and who knows what he'll do to her if she tries to run in front of all his investors. "My pet has grown into quite a beautiful woman," he says when her shaking hand touches his and he quickly grabs it to prevent her from pulling away, "I'd like to show you all just how stunning she is. She's going to put on a show that's far beyond what you'll find anywhere else."

With those words, the music starts and Jangmi knows that she needs to shove it all down to make it through tonight. Numb, dissociated and professional.

TEN DAYS MISSING

It's suffocating, even for Irene. When they opened the door to the In Between, neither thought it would take so long to traverse the realm in search of Doom. Chris has never seen such creatures before, not even realising they exist and as they get closer to Damnation, the more terrifying and hostile they become.

"Stay close," his grip on Irene's hand tightens as he keeps her from moving away from him.

It's a sweet gesture but she knows that it isn't her that should be worried but Chris. The living shouldn't be here, they sense that a creature from the land of the living is here and Chris is like prey to them - not that he would go down easily but Irene would rather not give them a chance to get close enough to try.

"There," Irene says, pointing up into the nightless sky, she brings their attention to the nearly invisible castle floating high above. "We need to get there."

"How are we going to do that?" Chris quickly pulls Irene into his arms, moving out of danger's path when he hears a slight rumble and the ground gives way underneath them. A second later and they would have fallen to the abyss, which looks like it would have taken an eternity to hit the bottom.

Clutching his shirt, Irene gives him a look that immediately has the wolf knowing that the way up is a way he's not going to like. "It's the only way, baby."

"I'll stay here."

Irene looks around, spotting a dragon watching them from a short distance away. "You want to try fight a dragon rather than letting me carry you up."

He's quiet, looking in the direction she is before looking up at the castle. She can see him actually weighing up his chances before sighing because he knows that he has to go. He loves Irene but he doesn't trust that she wouldn't give herself up in place of Jangmi, even if she never planned on it, he knows she'd try as a last resort.

"Fuck. Hurry up then."

ELEVEN DAYS ABDUCTED

"There's a good little bitch," the hand of her kidnapper reaches forward to touch her cheek and causes Jangmi's entire body to tense up. "It's amazing how you went from a feisty little thing to the submissive little whore you are." He chuckles and slaps her cheek hard enough to make her wince and turn her head away. "Boss said you should be going into heat soon, how he knows that is beyond me." The fact that her old master remembers all of that makes her throw up slightly into her mouth before she thrown onto the bed.

"N-no," she pushes the man away, kicking at him with her feet as he grabs her ankles and pulls her closer to the edge of the bed. "D-don't! Help!" She screams, hoping someone would help her. As much as her old master disgusts her and mistreats her, he never really liked someone else touching what he considered his without permission.

His hand wraps tightly around her throat, holding her down and causing her screams to die down, "so fucking loud." He spits out and before he manages to get any further, there's commotion outside of the door as one of the house maids heard Jangmi's scream. In his distraction, Jangmi managed to get free and bite his arm, teeth digging into his flesh and nearly ripping it off.

She knows she shouldn't, she's been reprimanded so many times for being vicious but the hybrid is sure that this would be an exception.

The man manages to grab her hair and pull back, nearly ripping the roots from her scalp and his flesh off his arm as he pulls her off him and throws her to the side, knocking her out. "Fucking beast!" He's about to kick her, a solid kick that would have caught her right in the abdomen but he's pulled back by the security guards that are always patrolling the grounds.

They are there to keep Jangmi from leaving but they are also there for her protection - from anyone but her old master.

ELEVEN DAYS MISSING

"I hated that." Chris says the moment his feet are on solid, well, floating ground. Irene rolls her eyes at him, muttering about how he's being a little dramatic just because they had to avoid being eaten by a horned dragon. "If you drive like you fly babygirl, I'm not teaching you how to." There's a slight teasing tone to his voice and Irene can't help but smile. She's knows he was terrified of that entire experience but he won't admit that.

They walk through the giant doors, both of them looking like ants wandering through a giant's home as the gargoyles' eyes watch them from their perches and Irene keeps close to Chris. They are both on high alert, unsure of what they could run into.

"Lucifer made it seem like Doom was sitting on a throne. A God overlooking its realm and all those beneath it," Irene talks, her voice a gentle whisper because their footsteps echoed around the large, open hall. "It wasn't like that though, Doom never seemed to pay much attention to what was around it. Not like Lucifer cared. He walked through this place as if it was his own, like him and Doom were kindred spirits." Irene vaguely remembers the way, not that there were thousands of rooms but she knows that they are already testing fate being here - it's best not to tempt it any further.

There's a faint glow in coming from a room ahead and they make their way towards it quickly, feeling something creeping in the shadows waiting for them to stray away from their destination. Irene keeps Chris close, knowing it would rather him than her and not wanting to give it the chance to snatch him when they are so close to where they are heading.

They enter a large library, thousands, millions of books stored high up to the endless ceiling and Chris' eyes widen as if he walked into a place he'd consider to be a personal heaven. As they move through the bookshelves, they find a large being sitting on a chair, reading.

"This is Doom?" Chris asks, sounding a little underwhelmed considering he thought he'd be seeing a God but whoever this is is just... reading.

Irene bows her head, the God looking down at her and Chris before humming softly. "Lucifer's wife-"

"Ex." Chris interrupts, not caring at all about the look Irene gives him.

"And you nearly got eaten by a dragon." Doom continues, ignoring the interruption. "Yet, you made it." Doom places the book down, Chris' name clear on the cover, and looks at the two of them, "you came here for something." It's not a question but a statement because Doom knows, omnipotent and all-knowing so it knows why they travelled to Damnation but it allows them to speak anyway.

Irene pleads their case, explaining the situation and how desperate they are, how she will give the God anything if he could save her. "I know that you don't really intervene but... please... this can't be the way her story ends."

Doom looks at them for a moment before standing up and walking over to one of the many bookshelves. "Jeon Jangmi..." It mutters as large, armour-clad fingers run over the spines of the books before pulling the large, bright coloured book from the shelf. Flicking through the pages, Doom searches for something in particular before nodding its head and closing the book. "What do you offer?" Doom asks when making its way back to the chair and sitting down. "For her rescue."

"You'll help?"

"I didn't say that." Chris' jaw tenses as he sees Irene deflate slightly, "I asked what you would offer."

Taking a deep breath, Irene gives Chris a quick glance before stepping forward. "Anything. Other than my life or the life of another, I will give you anything that you ask for. If you bring her home, I will owe you a debt to be collected at your convenience."

Doom is silent, quiet and looks at Irene curiously. It needs time to think, to weigh up whether this one hybrid's life is worth intervening for - if luck is on her side.

TWELVE DAYS ABDUCTED

"We've had a slight set back, gentleman," her master announces to the room of men that he hand selected to come and see the show Jangmi is meant to put on. "We had to delay as our entertainment for the night had a little bit of trouble yesterday." She walks out, wearing an overly revealing outfit that is worse than anything she had ever worn at Wonderland.

She's always been allowed to choose her outfits, the requirement being that they weren't going to show off more than what the dancers wanted and they always had to wear something underneath but this... this isn't Wonderland and he doesn't care.

Dropping to her knees next to her master, Jangmi keeps her eyes on the ground, waiting for the command that allows her to start dancing to get this over and done with. "Remember, you aren't allowed to touch under the clothing she's wearing. I might be letting you play with my pet but she's still mine." Jangmi's always loved being possessed but it's always been on her own accord, her willing let someone claim her as their little fox but this... this makes her entire being shiver with dread and disgust.

The music starts, Jangmi closing her eyes and shoving everything down because the sooner she gets this over with, the sooner she can go and scrub her skin raw. She looks at the men, their faces all burning into her mind and Jangmi knows they'll be in her nightmares, taunting her, reminding her that she'll never be free from this.

The hybrid prays, as these men pull her onto their laps and rest their filthy hands on her ass, she prays and hopes someone, somewhere is listening.

'Please. Save me.'

#post: jangmi #tw: violence #tw: abuse #tw: attempted sa

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