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#I have this problem with fics too!

areyoudoingthis · 4 months

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I am SO grateful that ed and stede exist as characters exactly as they are. I'm so grateful for these two men who are traumatized and messed up and struggle to even like themselves, who are terrible at communicating, who make enough mistakes between the two of them to fill an entire ocean. I am so grateful to watch them struggle and be seen and be loved and reach out for the things they want and are maybe starting to believe that they deserve. I'm so grateful that the show lets them fall in love and get together exactly as they are, that it doesn't say they need to wait until they've become some unattainably perfect version of themselves before they have permission to have that. i am so grateful for ofmd

#ofmd #there are no other shows like this one #I'm so tired of media that repeats the same idea that you need to hit a list of predetermined therapy milestones (determined by who???)#before you can fall in love #I'm honestly tired of fic that does this with ed and stede too #because guess what #you can live in the 21st century with access to therapy and dsm diagnosis and a bunch of different medications and you can be doing all the #right things and still be a trainwreck!!!#putting in the work doesn't mean you're gonna become perfect and never have problem again any more than falling in love doesn't mean you'll #never have problems again #I'll forever be crying on my knees levels of grateful for the unique writing on this show #for saying that it's okay you can be a mess you can take one step forward and three steps back and you'll still always be deserving #of love and grace and forgiveness #you don't have to do anything to deserve you deserve it just because you exist #i love this show with my entire heart #alex watches ofmd

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yuri-is-online · 1 month

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I was thinking back to the Halloween Event in TWST and that moment where Ace yells at Malleus for kidnapping Yuu (and other other students, he guesses) and IDK, maybe it's just how I look at Malleus' face and tone, but I could just picture him looking at Ace and thinking "Ah yes. He shall make a fine Queensguard for when I marry the Prefect"

I think you might be the only person who saw that scene and saw something other than aceyuu and o7 props for that know what you like and make everything about it, that's what I say!

I did sort of tear my hair out about this for a bit because my initial reaction was to say "I don't think Briar Valley recruits from outside countries" but that's not really true. I seem to remember that Sebek's grandpa isn't originally from Briar Valley, he's from the Sunset Savannah but he is still a fae so maybe they only make exceptions for other fae? Either way I can't really see Ace accepting a body guard position, he'd probably find it too boring ha. And I don't think Malleus would think to offer that since he would much rather leave guarding his spouse to Silver and Sebek. Lilia guarded both his parents after all, it just makes sense for him to trust his guards with his spouse too. His friends have more than proved themselves capable of such an honor.

I think the scene showed how much Malleus likes being treated like a person. He put Ace's friend in danger and Ace is chewing him out like he would anyone else, and it's someone Malleus cares about too so he's extra appreciative! It's good to know the people you care about have people around them who do too. He might not think to hire him on as a guard, but I could absolutely see him giving Ace and Deuce honorary titles as blessings because of how much he appreciates all they did for Yuu while they were at school. It is part of his role as Briar Valley's king to bestow gifts after all.

Now historical fantasy au Ace as an actual card soldier and Queensguard to Royal Riddle? That I can see.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #malleus draconia x reader #i have an actual idea for a fantasy iseakai ish ayuu that would be a multi part fic #i was keeping it offline since i thought i might want to do something original with it but nah #it takes too much from other things to feel like my own #but i can't decide who yuu's getting shipped with sjknfdjdfng #problems for later me i suppose

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gojonanami · 3 months

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me: I’m gonna write a glorified sex pollen / aphrodisiac fic for suguru

me:

me: but here’s 2K+ of lore and backstory and pining before we even see reader and suguru together

#sab speaks #I have a problem you see #and it’s called writing too much lmao #I may be willing to share a blurb of this fic today :)#if anyone would want one let me know 😌

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wikiangela · 6 days

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fuck it friday

tagged by @tizniz @bidisasterbuckdiaz @honestlydarkprincess 💖💖

still on my bucktommy bs, I'll be back to buddie but i'm too obsessed with tommy/lou to think about anything else rn lol

so here's a bit of something short I'm wiriting for 7x05 from tommy's pov, idk what this is, what it's gonna be, but I wanna finish it tonight or maybe by the end of the weekend so posting it here to motivate myself and also tell me what y'all think bc the more i reread all of it the more i doubt myself lol

___

It took him some time, plus a lot of self-reflection and just taking it one step at a time, letting himself look at other men, this time consciously and sometimes deliberately, noticing how hot they are, how they make him feel. He let himself feel how they make him feel. It took a minute to stop feeling guilty and ashamed, and to rework all those internalized prejudices that had been ingrained in him his whole life.

He gave himself time, a lot of time, started with just chatting with guys on dating apps, later got the courage for some casual dates, and when he met the man who would be his first actual boyfriend, his first gay relationship, that he genuinely liked, he felt ready to pursue that. It didn’t work out then, that’s just life, but it was a good relationship, because he was ready for it. Now he feels settled and comfortable with himself, feels confident, and knows what he wants. And he wants- he wants love. He doesn’t want to put any pressure on any relationship he might start, but ultimately, that’s the goal. Love.

He really doesn’t mind being this first to Evan. He likes Evan. He has those bright blue eyes that seem to shine their own light, and that wide, excited smile that makes it impossible not to smile back, with that adorable dimple accompanying it, that makes Tommy melt a little every time he sees it. Plus, those perfect, kissable lips he can’t wait to taste again, and the distinctive birthmark just adding to the charm. And he’s big and strong and so hot, too. And he’s just so nice, and so adorable and endearing, and he’s so easy to talk to. Tommy just wants to keep getting to know him, spend time with him, develop this relationship and see where it can go. And with any luck, maybe this one could last, could be something real.

The thing is, Tommy is ready for serious. He can take it slow, give Evan time to figure everything out, but he’d also like to know where he stands. He would never want to pressure him to come out before he’s ready, but he also knows he doesn’t want to be anyone’s dirty little secret. Been there, done that.

Still, he would be fine with keeping it just to him and Evan for now, for as long as Evan needs. But then…

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @neverevan @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @underwater-ninja-13 @exhuastedpigeon @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @buddieswhvre @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @your-catfish-friend @hippolotamus @daffi-990

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pyrefection · 8 months

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there needs to be more fic of the ghouls being satans little helpers. running errands and attending mass, working their ministry jobs and living normal daily life

#i just love them so much #and i’m obsessed with their character #and i need more like #not heavy relationship focused fic #pyre rambles #fyi i have no problem wifh romantic/pairing fic #i love them #but i want some daily life too

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4lph4kidz · 2 months

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i was thinking about your dirk and hal poll and i want to mention that i think your concept for ink and iron where dirk creates hal from his reflection by enchanting a mirror is so cool 😌

thank you! hal's predicament and purpose within the canon narrative is so fascinating and i felt it was really important to find a way to explore what i find most interesting with him. i can't take full credit for the concept though i took inspiration from a few placees (one of my friends pitched the idea of the mirror accidentally dumping him onto jake's doorstop for example) but overall i think the idea is very fun and i'm really excited to write more hal stuff!!! also i'm going to take the opportunity to share this oldish doodle i found:

the mispelling of angel as angle was NOT intentional (<- dyslexia haver) but it probably explains a lot. he's pointy

#obviously an AU is going to be different from canon #but i like AUs specifically *because* i have a lot of fun trying to translate canon ideas into another setting or genre in general #in this case its a riff on the fairy tale magic mirror #hal is still an experiment gone wrong/artificial being created to serve a purpose trapped in a non-physical form and denied personhood #as well as being an extension of dirk's selfhood and very literal expression of his self image #this time with extra gender problems as per my original intentions for the fic. which now feel more than a bit heavy handed but whatever #point is hal gets to play up the trapped demon/spirit/almost genie-esque angle isntead of the artificial intelligence schtick in canon #which i am having a lot of fun writing!#he is also a very important plot device. multitalented 💕#for anyone wondering i&i is NOT an abandoned project its just huge and whipping it into shape is slow going #i've taken breaks to work on other stuff too #ink and iron #i guess that's a tag i should start using #even though i'm not too happy with the title still. lmao

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lurkinglurkerwholurks · 1 year

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A two-part reminder that is connected but can and should be taken as true separately as well:

1. If you’re a stan—of any character—you will not like my fics. Don’t read them if you don’t want to. I don’t care. I love every single character and every single one is written as a flawed, fallible person. Your inability to handle that is not my problem to solve.

2. If a fic—mine or anyone else’s—irritates you, enrages you, bores you, or makes you feel any other negative emotion, that’s okay. You can feel how you want to feel. They’re your feelings. But the actions you take out of those feelings have limits. In this scenario, your next and only other option is to click out of that fic and go somewhere else. Do not leave a ranting comment. Do not attack the writer. Do not be a generally unhinged little creep. Take a walk. Touch some grass. Find something that brings you joy. Get some perspective.

#I have strong and healthy boundaries and it means I take no guff #fanfic writer problems #psa #batfam #also I think 99.9999% of the people who follow me here know this already and are ok!#the people who need this won't see it unless it circulates so this is me circulating #also check yourself in other fics too y'all don't embarrass me

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aha-chuu · 1 year

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Sorta interesting thing I noticed while reading Kavetham / haiveh fanfiction is that the most popular fanon seems to be that Kaveh is into make-up and has a whole beauty/skincare routine, but -

If you look at their faces, Al Haitham is the one obviously wearing make up? Like he has his peachy eye shadow situation and the same liner Kaveh has. Kaveh does have more pronounced eyelashes (mascara maybe?) but Al Haitham is definitely also wearing some make up, if not more make up.

I sorta like the idea that Kaveh, distractible architect extraordinaire, has the same insomnia I do and so doesn't get out of bed until the last minute before leaving. So he actually never plans time to do complex make up, if any at all, and his hair is stuck with a million clips and no sense of cohesion. His shirt is half unbuttoned cos he literally walked out of the door still pulling it on.

In contrast, Al Haitham has his life (and morning routine) in order, so he has time for a splash of eye shadow in the morning. He's very efficient and bare-bones about it, just a couple of products to look a little more presentable, but it's there. And ofc looking good is important when you're so recognisable.

#Kaveh #al Haitham #Alhaitham #Genshin impact #Kavetham #haiveh #this is also i think a symptom of what i like to call #the babygirlification problem #where people pick the twink (bottom) in the gay ship #and give them the more feminine attributes #which actually isn't too much of an epidemic for these two!#and bottom top hcs are ofc fine #but I'm a lil tired of like #oh big strong alhaitham and his fragile twink bf #saw a fic where they explicitly wrote Kaveh as a catalyst user cos #nahhhh he's too soft for claymore #':/ let them both have multiple attributes come on #also #there is something funny about Kaveh being a disaster and still looking so good #people assume he's putting in effort #but i think that's just me being optimistic about myself #i like Alhaitham more but the adhd blonde in me relates hard with disaster Kaveh man #but then I'm a humanities student who's a bit blunt...#maybe Kavetham is me. I'll give myself that yeah #self love or something

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rollercoasterwords · 27 days

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hiiiii i hope life is good! just wondering if you've read any good fics lately that you'd reccomend ? :~)

simply have not been reading v much fic the past year or two my peak fic-reading year was in 2022…however have enjoyed some r/s oneshots + a few drarry fics over the past few months!

crushed ice by sectoren @sectoren is a really fun r/s oneshot in which s keeps showing up 2 r’s part-time jobs…had me giggling & kicking my feet etc…

your hand in mine and other brief, annihilating intimacies by superloonyluna @superloonyluna is another r/s oneshot w absolutely beautiful writing in which s is a performer in a traveling theater troupe & r is their last minute stand-in for the leading man <3

revolvevlover by firethesound & zeitgeistic is a drarry fic that actually killed me…technically a oneshot as well but it’s 56k words so. harry is an assassin who gets assigned draco as a mark…ending made me wanna throw my phone at the wall 🤧

nor all that glisters by sweet_sorrow (sweet_s0rr0w? i can’t tell w the ao3 font…) @sweet-s0rr0w is another drarry fic in which draco starts taking felix felicis post-war during his house arrest 2 try and turn his life around 🤭

completely different fandom but read the end of the world by fernwithy a while back which was a fic abt haymitch’s hunger games & really liked it <3

have so many fics on my to-read list as well that i simply haven’t gotten around to yet…if anyone else has recs they’d like 2 share please feel free…

#ask #fic recs #<- i also have this tag u can look thru…#also being serious abt the recs feel free 2 share rn im rereading middle grade fantasy series i liked as a kid 2 de-stress…#but my other go-to comfort read is drarry fanfic lmao. i do need them 2 fuck at some point tho filter set 2 E 🫡#only problem w that is i’m picky abt sex scenes so if i read an E fic that gives me too many personal icks then i abandon it…#but when u find a GOOD one. nothing compares…#have not read a longer r/s fic in ages feel like i’m pickier abt their characterizations….

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idk-bruh-20 · 1 year

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Irondad fic ideas #125

AU where Thanos never happened and the Rogues eventually return. They've been pardoned and they're supposed to get the team back together, but there's still tension. A lot has changed.

Tony has told them repeatedly to never call in Spider-Man for backup. Steve doesn't understand or approve. He assumes Tony is just holding a grudge, trying to keep this new, obviously powerful recruit on his own side.

One day, Tony is caught up in SI business somewhere when a mission comes up, and they need extra hands. Steve decides to call in Spider-Man.

At first the mission goes smoothly, but then of course things take a turn. All hell breaks loose.

Tony taps into comms not long after to tell them he's on his way. He's left his meeting and is flying as fast as he can, though he's still a long way out. Somehow, Tony figures out that Peter is there. (Maybe he overhears Peter quipping, maybe Steve casually references Spider-Man.)

One way or another, he figures it out. He goes deadly quiet, then switches to a private comm with just Steve.

Tony is betrayed, aggravated, terrified and trying to bury it (and not doing a very good job), and honestly kind of bitter and insulted that Steve can't hear his obvious fear. Steve is annoyed at Tony's childish stubbornness, assumes the man is just mad at things not going his way. Still in the midst of battle, he dismisses Tony's concerns.

Then, Spider-Man gets hurt. Bad. Tony had already been frantically trying to get there faster when he heard the kid was there, but he still doesn't arrive in time.

At some point -- maybe there on the battlefield, maybe later in med bay when Steve arrives to chew Tony out for leaving with Spider-Man instead of staying to help -- at some point it becomes abundantly clear that Peter is Tony's son.

(Bio, adopted, emotional, doesn't matter)

It becomes clear that Tony wasn't making Spider-Man off-limits for selfish reasons. Steve, blinded by his own view of Tony, was unbelievably wrong.

It turns out, he had just been trying to keep his son safe.

Bonus:

If the reveal does happen later in med bay, there could even be a moment after the battle where Steve, fuming about Tony's lack of help and general inability to be a team player, is intercepted by Rhodey.

Maybe Rhodey arrived just after Tony (flying from the same meeting, but Tony freaked out and raced ahead) and then stuck around to help finish the fight. His reaction to Steve's unempathetic and baseless reading of his best friend is stone cold.

Bonus 2:

Steve fails to notice or understand Rhodey's meaning. Then he gets to med bay and is faced with the image of Tony holding a sleeping Peter on the hospital bed, glaring right across the room at him.

Both of them completely aware of what Steve had assumed, all these years, about the kind of person Tony was

#irondad fic ideas #nearly every fic idea I write: @ steve get rekt #sorry to anyone who is team steve #I actually don't have as much of a problem with him as it probably seems #I just see him spend every mcu breath being mean to my guy and I'm like instant kill mode ACTIVATED #irondad and spiderson #iron dad and spider son #tony stark #peter parker #rogue avengers #endgame who?#queueueueue #weekly reminder that i love you all but am too busy to be human :)#fic ideas still postponed but you can send asks if you want i just won't see them for a while #see announcements #if injured peter doesn't get tony to climb on the hospital bed with him to just hold him in your hurt/comfort fic then what's the point

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theminecraftbee · 2 years

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“You know, I didn’t expect to feel relief after this,” Etho says. “It’s not my feeling. It’s yours.”

Joel snorts. “Yeah, well, lot easier when you’re red, isn’t it? You can do all the killing you want and everyone’s scared of you.”

“Hm,” Etho says.

“Didn’t expect to feel so much fear. Never took you for a coward,” Joel says conversationally. Despite the harsh words, he’s not really aiming to hurt. Just to... poke. To poke and see what happens. Does that a lot, really. Makes sense to extend it to his partner. Etho gets it, anyway. Etho does it too.

“It’s not cowardly to be afraid of dying,” Etho points out. “I want to win.”

“Well, there you go. You want to win. I want to kill people,” Joel says. “What’s so hard to understand about that, huh?”

“Oh, nothing,” Etho says. “I understand you perfectly, Joel.”

“Good,” says Joel. “I mean, I built this whole Relation Ship. Would be sorta depressing if after I got to properly cut my teeth you chickened out.”

“I won’t chicken out,” Etho says. “Don’t worry. Just because I’m not as excited about the whole killing thing as you doesn’t mean I have any problems with it. Besides, a bit of chaos is fun.”

Joel smiles. He knows it’s all sharp teeth, okay? He knows it. He’s not baring them at Etho, though. He’s baring them at the world. The foreign fear is fading. The relief he’d felt on being red and finally being back on footing he understands is fading too from its overwhelming state, as an emotion that they share takes its place. “See, now you get it. Now we’re feeling the same thing.”

“Heart beating the same way,” agrees Etho.

“This is what being a soulmate’s about,” Joel says. “All about planning so, so much murder together. Speaking of. We do have some sand that I don’t think Grian knows we have.”

“Now now, Joel. Leave the traps to me,” Etho says.

“Rude?” Joel says.

“Takes one to know one,” Etho says.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Joel complains, but he’s smiling.

#double life smp #double life spoilers #ethoslab #joel smallishbeans #a bee fic #one more for the road: i think joel still has this problem where he's most comfortable on red #a thing that would probably make some partners uncomfortable too! who's relieved they're on their last life?#but see joel's partner is etho #and etho may not have the same bloodlust but etho DEFINITELY gets it #they're a match made in heaven i love them

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thelordofgifs · 11 months

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the fairest stars: post iv

Beren and Lúthien steal two Silmarils, more sons of Fëanor than anyone ever needed or wanted get involved, things go extremely sideways: you know the drill. You can find the first 18 parts of this bullet point fic on AO3 here, and parts 16-20 on tumblr here.

We're starting out part 21 with a timeskip!

One year after the fall of Himring, north Beleriand remains bitterly contested.

The East is overrun. In Barad Eithel's great war-room the map of Estolad is covered in black arrows stretching from Lothlann down to the Andram Wall.

Caranthir and Amras maintain a last stronghold on Amon Ereb, with the people of Himring who fled there after its fall; but Ossiriand, they fear, will only remain undefiled so long as Morgoth's attention does not turn towards it.

Their Eastern allies, too, are unimpressed. Bór and his young sons were all slain not long after Himring burned; the few of their people who escaped the orc-raids have joined themselves to Ulfang in Thargelion, but they are none too friendly to the Fëanorians these days.

"And Nelyo says I'm bad at making allies," Caranthir remarks.

[yeah he's in this now. damn it why will they not stay in their place.]

"I wouldn't say this is Nelyo's fault," Amras says quietly.

It is a debate held, in one form or the other, in every free kingdom in Beleriand.

But anyway, the East does not seem to be Morgoth's main concern for now.

It is Hithlum, Fingon is sure, where the next assault will come.

Hithlum, the realm of the High King of the Noldor; Hithlum, where he reigns who once humilated Morgoth so thoroughly; Hithlum, where Maedhros holds a Silmaril yet.

If the last true stronghold of the Noldor falls—

And he is facing plenty of internal pressure, too.

His lords – many of them survivors of the Grinding Ice, and arch-loyal followers of the House of Fingolfin – are less than impressed by the rumours that have reached them of the fall of Himring, and Maedhros' actions there.

Fingon has tried to quell the whispers as best as he can. But it is impossible to deny the fact that the attack took Himring by surprise because its patrols were cancelled on Maedhros' orders, or that Maedhros left the field as their position worsened.

The healers who treated Maglor's stab wound have not been quiet, either, about the fact that it was an elvish blade that caused the injury.

And some of those who were at Himring have heard that Maglor was found in a pool of his own blood with Maedhros, subdued too late, unconscious beside him—

If only they knew, Fingon thinks furiously, they would not cast sly aspersions on his judgement and his taste in friends. They would not stop talking of anything consequential when Maedhros drew near, as if he is not to be trusted with the secrets of the war.

Of course when he dares to suggest to Maedhros that this might bother him, Maedhros laughs and says, "Finno, do you think this the worst humiliation I have ever endured?"

So. There's not much Fingon can say to that.

His father was a diplomat, a politician, a builder of alliances. Fingon is not doing a very good job of living up to that legacy.

Thingol returned no response to the letter Fingon sent him, informing him of Curufin's disappearance.

In fact, Thingol is kind of just Done.

So the Noldor turned out to be faithless. What else is new?

Also he didn't really want Curufin's head anyway. Where would he even put it?

Fingon cannot give him what he truly wishes for: his daughter.

In Lúthien's absence old age has fallen upon him, who has lived unwithered for long Ages of the Stars since his birth at distant Cuiviénen.

Melian sings no longer. The people of Doriath, who have known little but peace and splendour since the Girdle was first raised, begin to wonder if their blessings have been withdrawn.

So it is a Menegroth much changed into which Beren and Lúthien walk, hand in hand, one afternoon.

Their return is met with both joy and some consternation. Youth comes back to Thingol at the touch of his daughter's hand; but Melian knows that she will never smile again.

Lúthien bears it all, the feasts of celebration at which none can look her in the eye, her father's overwhelming gladness and her mother's sorrow, the halls that ring yet with the memory of her grief, for exactly two weeks; then she announces that she and Beren are leaving.

"Daughter," Thingol protests, "you have only just returned to us – and soon—"

(Thingol does not know how he will ever handle the parting that is to come.)

"Will you not stay?" he asks. "This is your home."

Lúthien is not sure she knows what home means any more.

"I am sorry," she says, regretful but firm.

The next day finds her and Beren walking through Brethil, debating their next course of action – just as they did not so very long ago, when Celegorm and Curufin attacked them in the woods.

It is of that little skirmish that Beren is thinking now.

"They say Curufin is still out there somewhere," he argues. "It mightn't be safe—"

"I sang Morgoth himself to sleep," Lúthien cries, "and you think I can't take Curufin Fëanorion?"

"Tinúviel," Beren says, with a laugh, "I do not think there is anyone you can't take."

Lúthien allows herself to be placated.

"I am not suggesting we dwell alone in the wilderness," she says; "you made your earlier thoughts on that very clear. But I – I cannot go back to being Doriath's Princess, Beren, as if every part of me is not changed irretrievably since first you called my name, as if – as if you didn't die there, and—"

"Sweetheart," says Beren, kissing her forehead. "It wasn't permanent." And when she chokes out a little laugh through her tears, he goes on, "I know you do not wish to stay in Doriath. But we must choose somewhere – and somewhere safe. It seems as though the Enemy's reach has lengthened in the time we were, um, gone."

"I thought to go to Ossiriand," Lúthien says. "My kin the Green-elves still guard those lands."

"But only those lands," says Beren. "Estolad and Thargelion are overrun. The sons of Fëanor keep no watch upon the Eastmarch. If Morgoth were to learn that you dwelled there—"

"I'm not afraid," Lúthien says. "And even if I were – am I never to venture beyond the Girdle again, for fear of him? Is all my father's kingdom to be naught to me but a prison, as Hírilorn was? I cannot stand it – I will not."

Beren takes both her hands in his one and looks at her. "Tinúviel," he says, very seriously, "I will never cage you."

Oh, he knows her. What a wondrous, terrifying thing, to be understood so completely.

Perhaps Lúthien is still a little delirious with the rush of living once more, for she dips her head to capture Beren's mouth in a delighted kiss, and for a time they both forget all other matters.

Plucking strands of grass from her hair some time later, Beren says, "I have another idea."

"What! I thought I argued my case quite passionately," Lúthien teases.

"You said you thought of dwelling among your kin," says Beren. "What of going to mine, instead?" And, when Lúthien shoots him a puzzled look, "The House of Bëor is mostly ruined, but there are still remnants of my people who escaped Dorthonion ere its fall. Some of them dwell nearby, with the Haladin. And others went north to Dor-lómin – my little cousin Morwen is the lady of that land now."

"I do not wish to stay in Brethil," says Lúthien; "it is rather too close to Menegroth for my tastes. But the Land of Echoes, on the other hand..."

Her eyes are alight with that same fanciful gleam they used to get when Beren told her stories of the world outside the Girdle, of holy Tarn Aeluin and the dread Ered Gorgoroth alike.

You would think, Beren muses, that she would have had enough of adventure by now.

"I have," says Lúthien, catching his thought. "We are to live a very peaceful and retiring life. I insist on it! That is what I told Mandos we deserved. None shall dare assail us, in Dor-lómin." She rolls the name on her tongue as if trying to taste it.

"They call it so because of the terrible cry of Morgoth when Ungoliant assailed him," Beren tells her, "not for any sweeter music."

Lúthien laughs and flings her arms around him. Oh, his living body warm and solid against hers! It is a gift she does not intend to waste.

"Luckily," she says, "I am good at changing the melody."

Another conversation between lovers:

"Do you think it could be done?"

“I have already told you what I think.”

"But you haven't explained," Fingon persists, "you have only looked at me dolefully and proclaimed that it is not possible."

"Well, it is not," says Maedhros. He is lying curled in Fingon's arms, their ankles hooked together, and he is loath to disturb their contentment with arguing. Keeping his voice measured, he says, "If our strength were doubled I do not think it would be enough, Finno."

"The attack will come either way," Fingon says, also without much vigour. They have had this debate so many times now that it is become well-worn. "Why not meet it head on?"

"Because you have a defensible position here," Maedhros says patiently, "and a greater chance of holding than you do of storming the gates of Angband."

"My father did it," Fingon mutters.

"Your father died," Maedhros says, voice suddenly sharp.

Fingon looks at him. "Don't look so worried, beloved! I am quite turned off the idea of wasteful heroics these days."

"Then look to strengthening your defences," Maedhros says, "and drop this fool notion."

"But if we did try," says Fingon, "if we united all the Free Peoples under one banner, and marched on Angband together – think what we could achieve!"

His eyes are bright with hope. Maedhros hates to crush it, but crush it he must.

"Finno," he says, "the East is lost. My brothers do not have so strong a position in Amon Ereb that they can afford to march north to join in a war that could prove ruinous. Bór and his people are dead almost to a man. Belegost will no doubt have heard the rumours—"

Fingon glances at him sharply, but he speaks without bitterness. Which is concerning in itself, but Fingon decides to let it slide for now.

"—and there is little help to be expected from other corners," Maedhros continues. "Doriath has strength to spare, but Thingol hates you."

Fingon shifts uncomfortably. He never actually told Maedhros why Thingol hates him now.

"Nargothrond," he says, to change the subject. "Orodreth will answer to his High King."

"Orodreth!" says Maedhros, dismissively. “A king too ruled by the whims of his people. If he had any spine he would have turned my brothers out of Nargothrond immediately, and Finrod might have lived.”

If Fingon were crueller he might say, You didn't manage to control your brothers that well yourself. Instead he says, "But the people of Nargothrond are many and valiant. We should not discount them."

"If Nargothrond wishes to stay out of the wars of the north," says Maedhros, "I think it would be prudent to allow them to do so." There is a thoughtful, uneasy look in his grey eyes.

Fingon gauges it correctly and says, "Are you worried for your nephew?"

Maedhros looks at him unhappily. "Everyone in Beleriand knows what a mess – Curvo – made of – everything," he says.

(A year might have passed, but Maedhros still does not much like to speak of Curufin.)

"Tyelpë is safe in Nargothrond, where his father's deeds cannot taint him," Maedhros says. "I would keep him so." Then he shrugs. "But my opinion carries no weight now, beloved. Do as you will, and I will support you, for all that is worth."

"It carries weight with me," Fingon says fiercely. "And I am not ashamed to say so. But you have not yet heard the key element in my plan."

Maedhros smiles despite himself, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can keep his eyes focused on Fingon's face. The mass of his silken hair is pooled on Fingon's bare chest. "Go on, then," he says, indulgent.

"Gondolin," Fingon says triumphantly. "My brother took a third of our host with him when he disappeared, and yet more of the Sindar went with him. They have lived in peace for more than three hundred years; their numbers must be great."

Maedhros does not seem as delighted with this idea as Fingon is. "Finno, you don't know where Gondolin is."

"The Eagles bring them tidings, clearly," Fingon points out; "else they would have opened the leaguer and come to our aid when they saw the fires of the Dagor Bragollach on the horizon."

Maedhros frowns, attempting to parse this extremely backwards logic. Eventually, he says, "If Hithlum falls, Gondolin will be the last stronghold of the Noldor in the north. I do not know if its position should be risked."

"All war is risk, beloved," says Fingon, "and if I were to call upon my brother, Hithlum will not fall."

Maedhros says, as if he has been saving this blow for last, "Finno, if you call upon Turgon, will he even answer?"

It has been more than three hundred years, since Fingon last saw his brother.

“Do you think he won’t?” he asks, more sharply than he means to.

(Turgon didn’t tell him he was going. He didn’t tell anyone. He just – vanished.)

Sometimes Maedhros thinks things were easier during Maglor’s long convalescence, when his only concern was his brother, when every sleepless night was because Maglor needed someone to sit up with him and every meal was whatever invalid's food Maglor could be persuaded to choke down – when Fingon was his strength and steadiness, and Maedhros could yet wrap his blue cloak around him like armour.

Selfish – selfish. Maglor is better now, and Maedhros is so, so glad; and Fingon cannot always be his strength. Sometimes Maedhros must be his.

"I am sure he will," he says, contrite. He presses a kiss to Fingon's tense jawline. "I just don't think it wise to ask him."

Fingon sighs and puts his arms around Maedhros. "Fine," he concedes. "Perhaps you are right."

But later, when they have extricated themselves from their warm tangle of limbs and risen for the day, he sits down to write a letter.

A few days later the High King's messenger, having ridden swiftly along the Ered Wethrin and into Dor-lómin, nearly collides with a small child playing near the road.

"Be careful!" cries Lúthien, dropping Beren's hand and rushing forward to snatch the child up.

The messenger gapes at her, for it seems to him as though she has materialised out of the shadows themselves. Then, when he gets better look at her beauty, he gapes even more.

Lúthien is not paying attention. All her focus is on the little golden-haired creature in her arms. "That was nearly very dangerous for you, wasn't it, sweetheart?" she coos. "But you don't seem frightened at all. What's your name, dear one?"

The little girl giggles and hides her face in Lúthien's sleeve without answering.

Beren feels a little dizzy, looking at the picture that they make, and at the bright tender look on his wife's face. Someday, he tells himself, someday.

He looks around. The messenger has dismounted; it seems the great house up ahead is his destination. A house of lords, clearly, surrounded by gardens as lovely as any in the chilly northlands, and with a bubbling stream running just past its walls.

Well, here they are.

He is pondering what the etiquette is here – should they knock? wait here until someone spots them? – when he catches sight of a second child, a little older, dark-haired, watching them intently from around a tree-trunk.

"Good day, lad," Beren says gravely. "Might I ask your name, and those of your parents?"

The boy regards him with suspicion for a while, before he finally says, "I am Túrin son of Húrin, and that is my sister Lalaith."

(One little-appreciated consequence of the fall of Himring: for the last year, Morgoth's attention has been on the final desecration of the March of Maedhros. He did not have time to send the Evil Breath to Dor-lómin.)

"Lalaith!" Lúthien says, delighted. "What a fitting name."

"Then, son of Húrin," says Beren, "we have reached our destination indeed. Might you do me the honour of introducing us to your parents?"

Túrin looks unimpressed. "Who are you?" he asks.

"My name is Beren son of Barahir," says Beren, "and we are kinsmen, son of Morwen."

Túrin frowns even more. "How do you know my mother's name?" he demands. "And Beren is dead."

Kind of hard to argue with that.

Before Beren can come up with a suitable response there is a small noise from the direction of the house: the children's mother has come out to call them in for the evening meal. She stands so still she might be made of stone, were it not for the wind whipping up her dark hair behind her.

Beren finds his own mouth is very dry.

He buried Baragund his cousin, and avenged him; and he has not thought of his slaughtered companions for a long time.

(There's only so much survivor's guilt one person can have, and it is usually the screams of Finrod and his Ten that haunt Beren's nightmares.)

Morwen is not now the thirteen-year-old he remembers, her face sterner and more sorrowful, but somehow she is the image of her dead father.

"Hello, little cousin," he croaks out.

Morwen stares at him.

Lúthien comes to the rescue. "You must be the lady Morwen," she says warmly, setting Lalaith down so that she can drop into a graceful curtsey. Her Taliska is hesitant, but beautiful. (Everything about Lúthien is beautiful.) "Beren has told me so much of you. And your children are charming."

"Beren's dead," Morwen says at last, shakily. "And – you—"

"I was dead," says Beren, "but now I'm not. I don't know how to explain it, cousin, but—" He holds his hand out to her, letting the Ring of Barahir gleam green upon his finger in the setting sun. "It really is me."

Morwen makes another small sound, swaying where she stands. Her hand rests on her son's dark head as though he is the only thing keeping her upright.

"Mother?" Túrin says nervously.

Before things can get any more awkward the lord of the house comes out to seek his family, perhaps wondering what is taking them so long. "Morwen," he says quietly, seeing her stiff posture.

But Morwen takes a breath. "We have guests, Húrin," she says, composed again. "This is my kinsman Beren Erchamion, and his – and his wife, the Princess of Doriath."

Lúthien turns her dazzling smile on Húrin. "A pleasure to meet you," she says gaily. "But call me rather the Lady of Dorthonion."

(to be continued)