ladyoflindon

Latest Posts by ladyoflindon

🎞📸

Watched this film recently, loved it

Waterloo (1970)

Ts pmo sm icl💔

oh my god

After Waterloo, the Duke of Wellington attended a ball in Vienna. Upon his arrival, some French officers turned their backs on the conqueror of their emperor.

When a woman apologized to the Duke for their rudeness, he replied:

‘’Tis of no matter, Your Highness; I have seen their backs before.’

amazing guy

Winter 1995 - Severus Snape hears a scream in the middle of the night so he jumps out of bed and runs across the castle in his nightgown ‘cause who cares about decorum when someone might be dying

With a special dedication to @frillions 

(the sound of everyone's hearts shattering)

Ещё пару слов об грустной Элрондовской мордочке...

A few more words about the sad Elrond face...

Dying at how cute this is

Strolling on the Hogwarts grounds, a rare sight caught thy eyes.

That one smile/laugh/chuckle in every snape-pairing fics that makes one swoon, falls head-over-heels and melts.

Wish Severus (and snapedom people!!) a happy Christmas ⛄🎄

(screams) Elrond!

ELROND appreciation 01/∞ S2E8 "Shadow and Flame"

Chapter I: Love and Friends Lost (More Than Life Itself, Severus Snape x OC)

Author's note: Here's Chapter I, finally! Severus Snape drags Helena Collins out of bed to see if the rumours were true, if the Potters were really dead. He can only hope...but, I mean as we all know, it's futile. We all know how Snape feels, but how does Helena feel, watching her best friend fall apart in front of her eyes? Yet, someone has to stay strong for them, right?

TW: Angst (lots of it I guess)

Tags: @koopakid03 @craftyhufflepuff @easy-there-leftovers

----

“Merlin’s beard, slow down!” Helena Collins hissed as she struggled to keep up with the fast pace of the figure before her. She hastily brushed a strand of her long brown hair away from her face. She had hastily dressed, throwing a deep blue robe over her white nightgown. The snow fell like little pearlescent droplets, beautiful in the dark night. Her nose and cheeks had turned pink from the cold, and she shivered. She followed the figure, and he took her arm, Apparating them both from Hogsmeade to Godric’s Hollow.

Up ahead, Severus Snape marched with great strides. He gripped his wand tightly in his left hand, holding it out in front of him slightly as he walked. He stopped abruptly, causing Helena to crash into him. “Gods, Severus, what-”

She peered out from behind him, and her eyes widened. The house in front of them was a familiar structure to her. She had spent many days here, and to see it in such a state…with the side of the house seemingly blown apart.

Without a second word, he walked ahead, pushing the gate open and stepping into the front yard of the Potters’ home. Helena followed, taking her wand out from within her robes. She managed to catch up to him and paused by his side.

“This is it,” she said to Severus, whose eyes were dark and severe, even more so than his usual dour countenance. She pushed the door open, finding it unlocked. Her breath hitched at this. Lily Potter would never leave her house door unlocked.

James might, but never Lily.

She stepped cautiously into the house, lighting her wand with a “lumos” charm. Light bloomed from the tip of her wand, lighting up the darkness in front of her.

She walked through the living room, Severus trailing behind her. The sight that greeted them at the top of stairs made her nauseous. James Potter lay on the ground, that familiar smirk on his gone, replaced with a look of what could only be described as determination and shock.

His round glasses were askew, and his wand knocked aside. She knelt by his side, brushing his face with the back of her fingers. His skin was ice cold. She shook her head as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Dead.

Helena gently brushed her hand over his eyelids, closing his eyes, before getting up, but Severus had already moved on. She mumbled a prayer for James and following Severus into the next room.

He stopped in the doorway, his knees visibly buckling. He let out a sob as he fell to his knees. When Helena stepped into the room, she knew why. She stilled, and for a moment, it was so quiet that she could hear her heart slowly start to shatter.

The debris on the floor, the figure with vibrant red hair that lay amongst it. Lily Evans, one of her closest friends at Hogwarts. Now, she lay dead. Helena watched as Severus picked up Lily and held her to him in an embrace, tears dripping down his cheeks.

Lily had been a great friend to Helena, and a great sorrow overcame her as she glanced at her lifeless friend, cradled in Severus’ arms. However, her heart clenched soon after, a feeling that had nothing to do with her grief about Lily’s death.

She knew how much Lily meant to Severus. She was his first real friend from their childhood years. Lily had told Helena the tale many times over, she and Severus bonding over the fact that they had magical abilities in the Muggle town of Spinner’s End. Lily was there for him when the Marauders teased him endlessly, and even when the three of them hung out together to study or for breaks, Helena had felt, more than anything, like a third wheel.

“Severus…the boy,” Helena said softly, walking over to the crib, where one year old Harry Potter was crying. There was a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, and it bled. She picked up the boy and rocked him gently, shushing him.

“Oh, Harry…” Tears pricked her eyes again as she imagined him having to grow up without his parents. James and Lily, who had been so excited to have a son to raise, to grow up with. Now, they would never be able to hug Harry again, to play with him and see him go to Hogwarts. She pressed a kiss to his forehead before turning to Severus.

“What do we do?” She asks, her voice hoarse. “We cannot leave him here.”

----

Seeing Helena holding baby Harry stirred something in Severus Snape. He didn’t know what it was, a foreign twinge of an emotion he’d never felt before. But he brushed that all aside. He approached her, wiping his face, and leaned in to whisper, “I have word that Hagrid will be arriving soon, on Dumbledore’s orders. He will take the Potter boy to Professor Dumbledore, who’s currently at Number 4 Privet Drive, for Potter to live with his aunt.”

He watched as Helena frowned, no doubt recalling the unpleasantness that was Petunia Evans. Lily had told her about Petunia's unique disposition quite often, and Petunia's attitude irked Helena to no end.

“Them?” She grimaced. “Those god-awful-”

She stopped herself. “We cannot send Harry to live with them,” she said pleadingly, tears shining in her blue eyes. Those blue eyes. The beautiful shade of blue he had always loved. He didn’t want to see her cry, ever. Wait, what?

Why did he feel this way?

“The Headmaster has said so himself. Harry’s protection can only last as long as he lives with family, as…vile as they are,” he replied, his voice cool and calm. He took the baby from her arms and laid him back in the crib, his fingers brushing over the raven hair on the child’s head. “We must go before we are found, otherwise…”

He didn’t need to continue. The implications were clear. He watched as Helena stood, wiping the tears from her eyes. “We must go,” she echoed softly. He took her hand, and they Disapparated.

That night, as Helena laid in her bed, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling of her quarters, her heart wept. For Lily and James, and Harry who had been oprhaned at such a young age...but also a love she knew she couldn't have. She hated it, her mind thinking about Severus this way when Lily and James had just died.

That night, as she recalled how Severus had held Lily in his arms, she knew that it could never be, and it was time to let go.

But could she let go? That was a question that only time could answer.

Preview - More Than Life Itself (Severus Snape x OC)

Author's note: Hey! It's my first time properly publishing a Potter-related story, and the above GIF should give you guys a pretty good idea which part of the story this preview is from. I feel that Severus Snape is one of the best characters ever written, and I'm reimagining him with one of my oldest OCs. Have fun reading! Feedback and comments appreciated!

----

“All this time,” she growled, marching closer to him, “he trusted you. Dumbledore trusted you! And you…you killed him, just like that!” The tip of her wand touched his chest, and she shoved him hard. He didn’t fall, and he just stood there, staring at her.

“Say something…you prick! You coward. Say SOMETHING!” Helena screamed, marching closer again, the tip of her wand up against his throat. Tears rolled down her face as she mourned, for the Headmaster that Hogwarts once had, and the man before her, a man she thought she understood. Now she knew that she had barely scratched the surface of the lake that was Severus Snape.

He reached up, grasping her wrists and gently pulling her wand from his throat. He gave her a look that was both intense and filled with something she couldn’t decipher. His lips moved, saying words so silently she couldn’t hear them, but she could’ve sworn he said, “Please trust me.”

But how could she?

With that, he had marched after the Death Eaters retreating from the Hogwarts grounds, his figure growing ever smaller. Helena sunk to her knees, letting out a loud scream filled with anguish, for the darkening of the world as she knew it. She vaguely registered Hagrid putting out the fire lighting his hut ablaze, or him and Harry walking over to her. Hagrid’s hand landed, surprisingly gently, on her shoulder.

work of art

HES SO FUCKING PRETTY LITERALLY JUST LOOK AT HIM

More Than Life Itself - Severus Snape x OC

(Gracie Abrams will be the faceclaim for my OC, Helena Collins)

Synopsis: Severus Snape is devasted over the death of Lily Potter, the first friend he ever had. He mourns her death, but he overlooks someone very important, someone who has been by his side ever since the disastrous event in their fifth year. Helena Collins is a Ravenclaw through and through. Alongside Lily Evans, she had been one of Snape's closest friends, but he always had Lily in his eye. And it breaks her.

Taglist: @koopakid03 @craftyhufflepuff @easy-there-leftovers

----

Preview Chapter 1: Love and Friends Lost

Potter Masterlist

Hi, it's Camille (my pen name)! Here's a masterlist for my Harry Potter works so it's easy to consolidate my stories. Enjoy reading and feel free to request! If you want to be tagged in anything let me know!

Also please don't come after me, but I've only written Snape so far, so there'll definitely be more characters coming!

Characters

Severus Snape

More Than Life Itself (Snape x OC)

Main Masterlist

Hi, readers! My pen name is Camille Wright, and I'm so glad you've decided to check out my stories. A huge thank you to those who've supported me over the past few months. My Tolkien masterlist is here, may add for other fandoms too!

Tolkien Masterlist

Have fun exploring and requesting!

Merci, Camille

Severus and his younger self. (Vid format is on tiktok)

Please, don't leave me

read on ao3

“Draco has been chosen by the dark lord to murder Dumbledore.”

..

Severus arrived home late after a meeting that you hadn't been able to attend. He looked visibly stressed as he paced back and forth in the living room. As you sat in the armchair, he burst into the room, seemingly lost in his thoughts. It took several attempts of calling his name before he finally acknowledged your presence.

"Severus! What's wrong?" He turned towards you, his expression filled with anguish, before enveloping you in a tight embrace. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your cheek and the rapid thud of his heart as he held you close. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice heavy with concern, "Draco has been chosen by the dark lord to murder Dumbledore." As you lifted your head from his chest, you searched his eyes for the myriad of emotions swirling within him, unable to comprehend the turmoil within him.

You embraced him again, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on both of you. "It'll be alright, Severus," you murmured. "We need to focus on helping that poor boy." He pulled back slightly, a skeptical look in his eyes. "You want to help him kill Albus?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. You shook your head and let out a sigh. "No, we have to help him not feel alone in this. He's just a boy and has no way out of this." He nodded in agreement, his expression grave. "I suspect Narcissa will come to us for help within the next few weeks." You nodded, but before you could respond, he spoke again. "Y/N," he said, catching your gaze. "Yes?" you replied, meeting his eyes. "If Narcissa stops by and I'm not here, please don't agree to anything risky. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you."

You gazed at him, puzzled, before inquiring, "Why would I do that?" He closed his eyes and drew you close once more. "I'm not saying you would, but I want to do everything I can to protect you," he murmured. You ran your arms up and down his back, reassuringly. "I'll be safe," you whispered.

…

The sound of a gentle knock echoed through the house, barely audible over the relentless patter of rain outside. With a sinking feeling, you knew who it could be, and of course, Severus was nowhere to be found. Slowly, you made your way to the door, and as you cracked it open, you were met with the familiar face of Narcissa Malfoy. A soft smile graced her lips as she greeted you with a gentle, "hello, Y/N." Returning the greeting with a nod, you invited her in, noticing the rainwater dripping from her coat. As she shed her coat in the entryway, you made your way to the living room and settled on the small loveseat. For a brief moment, silence hung in the air before she inquired, "Is Severus here?" you looked up from your hands, meeting her gaze and shaking your head, "No, he's been gone for a while." With a solemn nod, she acknowledged your response, and the room lapsed into silence once more.

"I'm sorry, Narcissa, but did you need something?" she averted her gaze away from the bookshelf, meeting your eyes. "Yes, actually, but I have to warn you, it is quite a big ask." You nodded slowly, silently wishing Severus was here. The dim light from the flickering candles cast eerie shadows on the walls, adding to the tense atmosphere. "I'm sure Severus has already told you," she asked in a questioning tone. You nodded your head again, feeling a sinking sensation in your stomach. "I'm here to ask you—" Before she could continue, she was cut off by a much louder knock echoing throughout the house, the sound reverberating through the house. Your brows furrowed as you wondered who that could be. But before either of you could stand up to answer the door, none other than Bellatrix Lestrange walked in. Your breath hitched as you watched her walk around the living room, her dark eyes scanning the walls of books, absorbing every detail.

"Your quaint, charming little home suits you both so well," she remarked in her typically icy tone. "Thank you, Bella. May I inquire as to why you're both here?" you asked, feeling uneasy. Bellatrix started giggling and moved to stand behind her sister. "You haven't told her, Cissy?" Narcissa shook her head. "I was just about to before you arrived," she said, then turned to you and exhaled deeply. "Y/N, I was wondering how far you would go to protect my son at Hogwarts." Your eyebrow raised before you responded, "You know I would do anything for him, Cissa."

She smiled at you and took your hands. "Would you carry out his plan if he is not successful?" Your heart sank. You couldn't bring yourself to kill Albus Dumbledore. You gazed into her eyes for a moment, with Bellatrix observing you from behind her. Instead of listening to your instincts, you blurted out, "of course." Her smile widened, relief flooding her eyes. She was about to speak when Bella interjected. "Would you make an unbreakable vow for him?" You felt dizzy. Making an unbreakable vow would leave you with no way out. You recalled what Severus had warned you about.

If Narcissa stops by and I'm not here, please don't agree to anything risky. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you.

But this was Draco, your godson. He has no way either. And you'd rather it be you than him.

So you nodded your head.

…

You were still sitting on the couch after the sisters had left, twirling your hand around in your lap looking at the scar that now sat there. You had massive amounts of regret flooding every corner of your mind. Bile rising up your throat every few seconds.

If you didn't do this, you would die.

You remembered Narcissa’s last words before she left your home,

“Y/N,”

“Yes?”

“...I'd prefer if you didn't tell Severus about this.”

You nodded before she left.

The hours slipped away unnoticed since their departure, and you remained completely still. As dusk approached, the front door creaked open, revealing Severus as he entered the room. Quickly, you concealed your hand in the pocket of your sweatshirt before turning to meet his gaze.

"Are you okay?" he inquired, approaching the couch. You nodded and embraced him, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. However, you wiped them away as he pulled back to look at you. His expression seemed to convey a sense that he saw through your facade, but he chose to say nothing.

You both spent the rest of the night in soft chatter and reading in front of the fire.

…

Severus deeply regretted his decision to agree to the unbreakable vow, but he knew it was the only way to shield you and Draco from being coerced into it. With the new school year approaching, he was resolute in his determination to ensure the safety of both you and both of your godson, no matter the cost.

Despite his best efforts, Severus couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was not right. During the ceremony, as Bellatrix performed the vow, she whispered something under her breath that he struggled to discern.

..

“Will you, Severus Snape, watch over Draco Malfoy, as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes?”

“I will.”

“And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him from harm”

“I will.”

“And, if Draco should fail, will you or … carry out the deed the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?”

He had furrowed his brows when he didn't catch what she said, but replied,

“I will.”

…

Now he was sitting here in the Great Hall, next to you as Dumbledore spoke. He had tried to hold your hand, but you had shoved it in your long skirts pocket before he could reach it. He looked towards you in confusion but your gaze was somewhere else, focused on the Slytherin table. He shook it off but a feeling of unease came over him as Dumbledore finished speaking.

…

Draco was failing terribly. The necklace hadn't even made it to Dumbledore, and a student got poisoned. You had a strange feeling you would have to be the one to carry out the deed.

What would Severus think of you? He had specifically told you not to do anything dangerous.

You lay awake in bed next to him as these thoughts run wild in your head. But in the end if you had to do it for Draco, at least he would be saved from it.

…

Draco had managed to do the unthinkable. There were Death Eaters infiltrating Hogwarts, and Bellatrix had caught sight of you in the corridors as she made her way up to the astronomy tower. Dragging you along, she led you to the top, where Draco stood with his wand aimed at Dumbledore, who stood perilously close to the edge of the inner circle of the tower. Hidden behind the mass of Death Eaters, you watched as Bellatrix urged Draco to act, but you could see the doubt in his eyes.

Summoning all your courage, you stepped forward, aiming your wand at the headmaster, your hand shaking with fear. Bellatrix's eyes bore into you, waiting to see if you would prove her wrong about your bravery. As another set of footsteps echoed up the stairs, you knew you had to act swiftly. You were on the verge of speaking the two crucial words when Dumbledore's voice pierced through the tension.

“Y/N.”

“Please.”

But as he said the word please, you could see it in his eyes that he knew. He knew all along what the plan was. And he knew that it would be you in the end.

“Avada Kedavra”

A green flash of light burst out of your wand killing him and knocking his lifeless body off of the tower. You stood there in shock, everything sounded underwater. You could feel someone's hands on your shoulders, calling your name. And when they spun you around everything sounded normal again.

It was Severus. He had watched you kill Dumbledore.

His eyes were filled with worry and concern as he gazed at you, about to say something when suddenly Bellatrix cast the dark mark into the sky. In an instant, he grabbed your arm and hurriedly pulled you down the stairs, with Draco leading the way.

When you got down to the bottom, you immediately wrapped Draco in a hug, whispering that it was going to be okay. Severus waited at the bottom of the stairs until all of them were out of the tower, but the whole time his eyes were on you and your godson. He then signaled all of you to follow him, watching as you kept one arm around Draco the whole time until you were outside.

He also wondered how he had not died yet, he had not carried out Dracos deed. You had. So he should be dead. He thought back to the ceremony.

“And, if Draco should fail, will you or Y/N carry out the deed the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?”

He had furrowed his brows when he didn't catch what she said, but replied,

“I will.”

He now had realized Bellatrix had said your name as well as his. He thought about the times when you would hide your right hand from him, and the knots tied themselves.

They had gotten to you before him.

And you hadn't told him.

He snapped out of his daze when Hagrid's hut lit up in flames, also realizing that Potter had been following the group. He looked towards you and Draco and shouted, “Go on!” you nodded at him, and he could see the regret in your eyes. Your facial expression begging for forgiveness. He nodded once at you before you turned around and left through the trees. He had to deal with Harry Potter before he could talk with you.

..

You sat on your bed after apparating Draco back to his home. Making sure Lucius and Narcissa got to him before the Dark Lord did. You sat sobbing with your head in your hands, the reality of the night washing over you. You kept watching the clock, waiting for Severus to get back.

Another hour had gone by and you heard the front door slam open and rushed footsteps searching every room of the house before making their way to your bedroom. You were now lying on your side, mascara lines staining your face, staring blankly at the wall. You heard the bedroom door burst open, and someone standing at the entrance heavily breathing. You turned to the door and saw Severus standing there, before turning back to stare at the wall.

He entered the room without a word and slid into the bed beside you, enfolding you in a warm embrace. You hadn't realized how much you needed his comforting presence until that moment, and you found yourself overcome with tears. He gently rubbed your back and planted soft kisses on the back of your head, offering silent support until your sobs began to fade.

After half an hour, your crying ceased, and you lay there quietly in his arms. Breaking the silence, he spoke softly, "Why didn't you tell me?" His voice carried a hint of hurt. Sniffling, you turned to face him. "I'm sorry, truly. I didn't want you to worry about me all year." He shook his head, "You know I'm always worried about you. You should have told me. I would have been there for you." You nodded, and you both lapsed into a peaceful silence.

“I hope you know I'm not angry with you,” he spoke again.

“I know.”

…

You could feel your heart racing as you stood in the dimly lit boathouse, watching the Dark Lord slowly walk closer to you. Lucius had summoned you urgently, and you couldn't shake off the feeling of dread. Thoughts of Severus's safety weighed heavily on your mind as you waited.

“The wand, does it truly answer to me? You're a clever girl, Y/N. Surely you must know. Where does its true loyalty lie?” His voice echoed in the eerie silence, sending shivers down your spine.

Your hands trembled behind your back as you struggled to maintain composure. You fought back tears as you stammered, “with you, of course, my lord.”

His dismissive shake of the head and muttered words only added to the growing sense of unease. "The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner."

You froze in realization. You were going to die. You could see that stupid snake curling in the corner of your eye. Your life flashed before your eyes in a split second. Your childhood, you meeting Severus. Your wedding.

You were about to respond before he spoke again.

“You killed Dumbledore, Y/N. While you live, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine. You've been a good and faithful servant alongside your husband, Y/N - but only I can live... forever.”

“My lord,”

And it was then you felt a stinging sensation across your neck. You fell to the floor as blood started to pour out of your neck. The white parts of your dress quickly were drenched with crimson.

“Nagini, kill.”

The snake attacked repeatedly until you fell limp. Voldemort then vanished with the snake, leaving you behind.

You were still breathing after he left, and you just prayed with tears running down your face, that Severus wouldn’t be the one to find you.

..

Meanwhile, Severus was doing all he could to look for you. After Voldemort's pause with the fighting, retreating to the forbidden forest, he searched everywhere to find you. He asked around, no one seemed to know where you were.

He raced outside of the castle and could see the boathouse from where he was standing.

You could have hidden in there.

He made his way down, a sense of dread in his stomach. What if he couldn't find you?

As he arrived at the platform, a sharp intake of breath escaped him. The glass was streaked with red. Could it really be you? He whispered desperately, hoping against hope as he cautiously pushed open the door. The scene before him caused his legs to give way, and he sank to the ground. It was indeed you. You were lying there with blood pooled around you, your eyes shut in a permanent sleep. Tears streamed down his face as he reached you, frantically searching for a pulse that he knew he wouldn't find. His heart sank as the realization hit him - you were gone. He cradled your lifeless body in his arms, his sobs echoing in the empty room. All he could do was apologize over and over, drowning in a sea of remorse. He had failed to protect the love of his life, and now you were lost to him forever.

…

The outpouring of condolences from everyone couldn't fill the void left by your absence. Neither the flowers, nor the cards, nor the sweets could ease the pain. He appeared worn out and he was aware of it. Following your departure, he neglected his own well-being. Your funeral shattered him, leaving him to gaze at photographs of the two of you. The day he lost you, he lost himself entirely. You were his essence. You defined him. Without you, he ceased to exist.

Throughout the rest of his days, he found himself constantly revisiting cherished memories with you. He would spend hours watching old videos captured with a simple muggle camera, flipping through the pages of your wedding photos, and daydreaming about you. As the end of his life drew near, his thoughts were consumed by the anticipation of reuniting with you, his beloved. The prospect of seeing you again filled him with an undeniable sense of excitement as he prepared to bid farewell to this life.

one single thread of gold tied me to you: series (ficmas 2024)

whatever ties james to you feels ancient, like folklore—woven into the fabric of who he is. like the golden threads in that scarf, it pulls him toward you: effortless, timeless.

pairing: james potter x reader

series summary: james potter spent years chasing after lily evans, convinced she was the one for him but in fifth year that all changed when he met you. for two years, it was easy, perfect, even. then the summer before seventh year you ended things with him, insisting he belonged with lily instead. he didn't understand (or agree) with your decision then and he's not sure he does now. perhaps being lovelorn and bereft without you compelled him to follow your suggestion and he began dating lily. everything should've fallen into place like you said, it should feel right but it doesn't.

as snow falls over hogwarts and the holidays draw everyone closer, james can't shake the feeling that something is pulling him back to you and he's not sure he wants it to stop.

main tags: female pronouns, alternate universe, marauders era, pov switch between characters, gryffindor reader, friendly reader, casual invisible string connection, exes reader and james, established jily, sirius and reader friendship, lily deserves better, no bashing whatsoever, emotional infidelity, insecurities, angst, fluff, mutual yearning/longing, falling into old habits, obliviousness, miscommunication, off-screen mutual breakup (jily), getting back together (reader and james), time skip, implied marriage, domesticity, happy ending

notes: happy holidays!! here is my self-indulgent 2024 12 days of ficmas series 🧣 inspired by taylor's song invisible string. this series is a collection of vignettes set during the winter of their final (seventh) year. every part is centered on a winter-ish word prompt and connected to each other in the same universe. please read the tags. i tried to keep the reader a clean slate as much as i could but there are implications that they're a gryffindor, friendly, well-liked, and that they knit. if you don't like that, don't read it.

credits: divider [x] and gif made by my bff @jasntodds 🤍

masterlist 🔗 ao3 | other works | playlist

☆ day one: scarf ☆ day two: chocolate ☆ day three: mistletoe ☆ day four: snow ☆ day five: gift ☆ day six: gloves ☆ day seven: christmas tree ☆ day eight: cookies ☆ day nine: snowdrops ☆ day ten: tea ☆ day eleven: star ☆ day twelve: epilogue

oh mirdania

𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐀

season two the rings of power. 2.07.

run, severus, run! (x7)

hoooooot..?

"After receiving a tip about a family of Burrowing Owls on the eastern edge of Cheyenne, a photographer rushed to the location in late June. The owlets seemed nearly ready to leave their burrows. Over the years, the photographer has perfected a method using a GoPro on a small tripod, set to take a photo every 5 seconds. They leave the camera behind, allowing the owls to feel comfortable. The challenge lies in the long wait to see if the effort pays off. This shot was taken on June 28th."

📷 Peter Arnold

darling elrond

my gentle🥺🤲

so sweet they give me so much life

Hii! I just wanna say, your blog is life to me! Literally come here to scroll on tough days, and seeing all the character designs and funny comics makes everything better! Really love your art style and designs. I know this has been asked before but I'm wondering if I could use your art as profile pictures? I really appreciate the joy your art brings!

hihi hello!!! first off, thank you so much for your kind words! i'm sorry for how delayed this response has been (im just getting back into tumblr after one of many hiatuses... AGAIN!!!), but it warms my heart on my own tough days to hear you enjoy my designs and comics! it means a lot, so thank you again!! ❤️❤️

now onto your question about using my art as a pfp: that's absolutely fine! by the time i'm answering this it's likely a bit late already, but i hope this clears things up in the long run. im absolutely ok with anyone using my art as pfps/icons, just so long as you remember to credit me, don't claim as own, dont use for AI training, etc etc.... hope that clears things up, and sorry again for taking so long to see this!

✨Between the Mountains and the Sea - WIP✨ Little back-story below!

Soooo this all started because I noticed how Gil-Galad often keeps his hands in front of him one on on top of the other in a strong grip.

I see this detail as being nowhere near to convey a relaxed stance, but rather possibly indicating him feeling anxious and troubled by his thoughts (P.S. the man needs a vacation :( ).

Séredhiel and Gil-Galad will slowly build and deepen their relationship on mutual trust, understanding and feeling safe in each other's presence, and this would be one of those moments setting them in that direction.

Around the first years of Second Age, with the decision of Elros leaving to lead the Edain to Elenna recently spread, in a quiet corner of Lindon along the riff overlooking the Great Sea and with hardly any visitors, Gil-Galad would be lost in his thoughts. He would be concerned about the political consequences the departure of Elros would have, how the relationship with Men might evolve from that moment, and also the emotional toll of parting from Elros, as he grew accustomed to the presence of both Peredhel twins since their youngest years.

Gil-Galad's eyes would be set on the distance over the sea, and his hands clasped strongly. Séredhiel would happen to get into that same place, which happens to be one of her favourite spots to find quietness and reminisce, most of times her thoughts going back to her brother, who fell in the War of Wrath.

She would realize too late that Gil-Galad is also there, he would have already noticed her presence and will ask her to step forward, and they would start to talk, inquiring about what brought them there.

As they speak, Séredhiel will notice his eyes being clouded by worry, his clasped hands… and she will place her hand on top of his and offer him a listening ear.

He will be surprised at first, but a part of him will feel like he can release the grip with her...and will take her hand in his, and will confide in her. He will find out that sharing the thoughts troubling his heart with her was easier than he could ever do with anyone else before.

And talking, they will discover that they both reached that same spot to let their thoughts wander about the same issue: Séredhiel will also be troubled by the news of Elros leaving, and having to say goodbye to him would be like separating from a member of her family. Since the beginning of the War of Wrath, on the Isle of Balar, Séredhiel took care of the Peredhel twins, taking them under her wing and becoming a nurturing figure for both (as I imagine Gil-Galad would be, too), and their bond would reach depths no different than those of a blood one. Both Gil-Galad and Séredhiel had experienced the pain of being separated from their families, so the news concerning Elros' departure hit hard both of them, at the same time leaving them unable to talk about it to anyone. But in this moment, they would feel like they could share their thoughts and burdens safely with each other, Gil-Galad starting to realise how around Séredhiel he can drop the walls he build around himself from the duties of being the High-King, while her, being the one who often listens but seldom speaks about what troubles her, finding someone who would listen and understand her feelings.

Art Nouveau Styled Composers🌹✨️

(Even if it does not seem to be, I tried my best thou)

Music, of all the arts, stands in a special region, unlit by any star but its own, and utterly without meaning… without meaning, that is, except its own, a meaning in musical terms, not in terms of words, which inhabit an altogether different mental climate… If it could be told in words, then why would Chopin have found it necessary to tell it through notes in the first place?

- Leonard Bernstein

Leonard Bernstein at Frédéric Chopin’s piano in Warsaw, Poland, 1959.

Bespoke kisses

Gil-Galad x reader. Modern AU. NSFW!!

*****

You really thought you had made it. 

“I knew you could do it, (name)!” your friend Mirdania comments happily as you both walk out of the door, leaving the large building that houses the Arda Fashion Academy, which you both attend as final year students, behind you. She is prettier than ever in her deep green halter dress -personally designed by her, of course, just like you created your shirt and altered your knee-length skirt so that it better fits your body; nothing more natural, for two budding fashion designers like you are! “That three-piece suit was beautiful, I knew the examination board would appreciate it!”

You smile, sincerely flattered and happy for your recent success, even though, you have to admit, she is the one who should be congratulated, since the mullet dress she created was enthusiastically received by the board, and was awarded the highest marks among the thirty submissions on behalf of as many seniors, and she was the first student selected for the internship. “I bet the designers came to blow for the privilege of having you as an intern.”

“Oh, come on, you’re exaggerating…”

You are -just a little- but it’s hard not to feel overenthusiastic in a moment like this. The internship you and your friend have been selected for is an exceptional opportunity, the sort that happens only once in a person’s life; the Arda, the country’s most prestigious institution in the field of fashion, has established a collaboration with three important designers, each of whom would be be paired with a final year student for a six months collaboration. The selection was to be based, as well as on the hopefuls’ academic records, on the submission of a personal creation: a set of clothing, be it a dress, a suit, a simple trousers-and-shirt combination -someone submitted a bikini paired with a sarong, flip-flops and a beach hat- that a panel of the Arda’s most respected lecturers would judge. 

As expected, most of your fellow seniors applied for the internship, and you and Mirdania were among the three chosen, together with a talented student named Elrond, who you know less well. You really can’t wait to begin: not only a period of employment in a prestigious fashion house will undoubtedly improve your resumé, but you’ll have the chance to see a talented designer at work, and to learn from them; the pay is low and between the internship and the classes you’ll still have to attend you’ll end up sleeping three hours per night, but who cares? Fashion has always been your passion, and while being admitted to the Arda was the first step to fulfilling your ambition of becoming a famous designer, you feel this could be your chance - the chance to find new inspiration for your works and learn on the field, rather than in class. 

And who knows, I would not be the first intern who remains to work for their mentor even after the allotted time… 

“I still can’t believe I am going to meet Celebrimbor, the Celebrimbor, tomorrow.” Mirdania comments as you both walk towards the metro station, which is where you’ll have to part to return home. Your friend has long been an admirer of one of the designers who offered their collaboration to the school, and was ecstatic to learn Celebrimbor had expressly asked for her as an intern, having been favourably impressed by her submission “I swear, I keep pinching myself because I think it might be a dream!”

“You’re not dreaming; and since he has already proven to appreciate your work, I’m sure you’ll enjoy working for him.”

“I think so too. What about you? Looking forward to putting a face to Gil-Galad’s name?”

You have to admit you are more than a little curious. Unlike Celebrimbor and Cirdan, the designer Elrond will intern for, your allotted mentor, Gil-Galad, is a mysterious figure in the world of fashion, well-known for his sense of style that has been appreciated, and worn, by celebrities all over the world, but very few people can say to have met him. He is probably the only fashion designer in the world who does not attend his own shows, nor does he give interviews in person - only by phone or mail. No official, proven picture of him exists on the internet, and you have heard that his closest collaborators -an inner circle among which, you imagine, you are going to be admitted tomorrow- are required to sign a non-disclosure agreement to swear not to share his personal information with third parties.

All it is known about Gil-Galad is that he’s a male, native of Lindon, and probably on the young side, since he started making a name for himself only a few years ago, soon before you started attending the Arda, and the rest is nothing more than gossip and assumptions; there is even the possibility he is using a pseudonym rather than his real name. The thought that you are going to meet such an elusive personage, whose identity fashion lovers and journalists all over the world would give an arm to discover, is intriguing, but all things considered, the personal matters of your mentor are none of your business; all you want is to learn as much as you can from him, and hopefully begin your career as a fashion designer.

“A little bit.”

“I can imagine. We’re celebrating tonight, yes? It’s Friday, we can go to the Moria.”  

The Moria is one of the city’s best-known clubs; the music is good, the cocktails even better, and you always have a good time there, especially on Friday, when the club hosts its famous theme nights.

“I don’t know, Mirdania.” you confess as you follow your friend down the steps leading to the metro station, surrounded by a veritable crowd moving in both directions; it’s almost rush hour, and you already know that finding a seat on the train will be impossible “You do remember we are going to meet our mentors tomorrow, yes? I was planning on going to bed early, to be well-rested…”

Your friend assures you she is as determined as you are to make a good impression, and doesn’t plan on showing up to the Arda for her first meeting with Celebrimbor still tipsy from the night before, her make-up smudged and her breath smelling like alcohol. “But we do deserve to celebrate, don’t we? Come on, just a couple hours! We have a drink, we dance a bit, and then we return home. Keep in mind how busy we will be for the next six months!”

She has a point, you have to admit as you adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder, especially because you haven’t been to the Moria, or to any club or pub for that matter, in ages, since you were so busy with your classes and preparing your submission to the internship. An eight-, or even nine-, hours sleep would do you a world of good, but on the other hand, you do feel the need to celebrate…

By the time you have come to a decision, you and Mirdania have reached the station’s central joint: from here you’ll have to part to take different lines. 

“Alright; I’m in.”

“Great! We’ll have fun, I’m sure.” Mirdania comments happily, her excitement contagious as you find yourself smiling “We deserve it, (name); we won fair and square.”

You assure her that you know, and your friend promises she’ll come pick you up at your apartment that night. You had no doubts she would be chosen for the apprenticeship, since Mirdania is undoubtedly the most talented student in your year, but you are happy the panel recognised the value of her work. You were a little less sure about yourself, since there are so many talented designers in your course, but since you got in as well, you have to have done something better than the others, right?

“I’ll see you tonight.” you promise, and Mirdania waves you goodbye as she walks away, her bright blonde hair soon swallowed by the crowd; you linger for a moment, already excited both for the night awaiting you and the day that will follow, and then turn to walk towards your train. 

*****

You really thought you had nothing to worry about. 

One of your favourite fashion designers, you read once in their autobiography, used their siblings as models at the beginning of their career, since they couldn’t afford to pay professional ones. You can’t do the same, being an only child, and most of your friends don’t have the time, or the patience, to let you spend hours fitting clothes on them, which is why most of your creations, except those you realise as presents, are tailored on a specific body type: yours.

Wearing the three-piece suit that won you to the internship for your celebration night felt like the most natural choice, and as you observe your reflection in the full-length mirror of your bedroom, having already taken care of your hair and make-up, you have to admit you do look good; more importantly, you feel good, and are quite proud of your creation. 

A quick honk outside your window announces Mirdania’s arrival. You go out to meet her, and when you find yourself face to face with your friend, both of you burst into laughter: like they say, great minds think alike, and Mirdania looks amazing in the mullet dress the internship panel awarded full marks to. 

“I doubt this is the Moria’s style.” you point out, amused. 

“I don’t care; come on, I need one of Durin’s drinks.”

You happily sing along with the radio during the short ride to the club, and finally the Moria appears in front of you. You leave your coats at the entrance, and as you predicted, almost every person present turns to look at you and Mirdania as you step in the room, intrigued by your clothes; you and your friend share an amused smile, and you privately have to admit how flattered you feel, even though as a fashion designer what you enjoy is creating clothes, not wearing them yourself. 

“Oh, it’s you guys; and here I thought two top models were gracing my humble club with their presence.” the barman and owner, Durin, jokes when he sees you approach, already busy preparing drinks behind the counter “You really put the rest of my clientele to shame tonight.”

“Thank you, Durin; we made these ourselves!”

“You both look lovely, truly. I wish I had worn a suit like yours on my wedding day, (name), rather than looking like a penguin…”

A grand piano is set on the stage at the centre of the room, a young musician playing a classic piece you vaguely remember hearing before. You and Mirdania decide to sit at the counter for a while, nursing the drinks Durin has already prepared for you. You let your gaze drift over the room, the people sitting at the small tables surrounding the stage, the soft notes soaring from the piano, the few couples who have already started dancing, gently swaying in the arms of their partner. You should feel happy tonight, relieved for your success and excited to begin your internship, and you do! You are happy, even though at the same time you can’t help but feel a bit wistful, and worried…

Mirdania is asking Durin about his wife, Disa, who recently gave birth to their first child, but then she notices your expression, and preoccupation colours her lovely face. “(name), are you alright?”

“Yes, yes; I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About the future. About where I will be, nine months from now.”

By then, barring accidents, you will have graduated from the Arda, free and at the same time forced to begin earning your living. “I thought you planned on finding a job in an important fashion house, just like me.” she points out; that is the most natural choice for a person with your education, unless they are exceptionally talented -or exceptionally wealthy- and are therefore able to get the funding to open a fashion house of their own. 

“I do. It’s just… I don’t know if I can actually manage that.” you confess, to Mirdania’s open surprise; while you like to think you are not as presumptuous as some of your fellow students, who already imagine themselves as top selling designers, whose creations grace the covers of magazines and fetch top dollars among celebrities and members of the elite, it’s not like you to doubt your talent and potential, not to mention your chance of turning your passion in a profitable career.

“Why shouldn’t you? You are one of the best students of our course, you have obtained a prestigious internship, and many alumni of the Arda went on to become famous designers.”

“Yes, but not all of them; in fact, I bet many former students ended up doing something else, and not because of lack of talent. Fashion is one of the most difficult fields in which to break in; why should I succeed where so many others have failed?”

“(name)...”

“I’m sorry.” you murmur, suddenly melancholic, and scared, for a reason you can’t quite describe. Rationally speaking you have every reason to be happy, satisfied, and even hopeful regarding your professional future, given your excellent academic record and the prestigious work opportunity you just obtained, but thinking that at the end of it you’ll be only a few weeks away from your graduation led you to reflect on your future, which you have never felt more pessimistic about “I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight…” 

Who says your academic successes will be enough to guarantee you a career in the field of your choice? So many aspiring artists, actors and singers and writers, wait years and even decades for their big break, which never comes, no matter how good an education they have received, and even how objectively talented they are; it’s the same, or even worse, in the field of fashion, where maybe one out of a hundred or more hopefuls reaches some level of notoriety. 

You already knew when you enrolled in the Arda how hard it would have been to actually become famous, or even just earn your living, as a fashion designer, and you don’t regret choosing such a difficult field to work in. Fashion has been your passion, your only ambition, ever since you watched shows on television with your mother and your grandmother taught you to sew when you were ten, and there would be nothing shameful in having to get another job to support yourself while you wait for your shot to stardom. But if you think that while you wait might end up meaning the rest of your life, and that your years at the Arda, and all the time and effort you have dedicated to your dream, all the hopes and the ambition, might amount to nothing, and you will have to work maybe a steady, even prestigious job, but that you find no joy or even just interest in, just to pay your rent and bills…

Oh, God; what am I doing? Maybe I should stop while I still can, and get a job at a  supermarket or as a bank teller, it’ll be less exciting but at least I won’t have to fear any disappointment…

“You want to return home? I can drive you, it’s not a problem.” Mirdania proposes, an offer you actually consider but that you don’t have the heart to accept, given how excited your friend was about tonight.  

“No, I’m fine; it’s probably because of the stress of these past weeks.” you try to reassure her, forcing yourself to smile “I just need to relax.” “If you change your mind we can leave; I don’t mind, truly.”

You thank your friend, sincerely grateful, and do your best to relax and enjoy the music and your drink, both of them actually good. You turn your gaze back to the piano, the musician having now switched to a melancholic jazz piece… 

… and then, almost casually, your eyes meet those of a man sitting across the room from you, and time seems to stop.

He has dark hair, and is wearing something black; that is all you can see of him, given the distance and the soft light permeating the club, but it’s his gaze that compels you… a gaze intense and open, even blatant, proper of a person who feels no shame in expressing their thoughts and feelings. 

He seems to have stared at you longer than you have been aware of; the man smiles at you, and you smile back, suddenly shy, and force yourself to look away to talk to Durin. 

A few minutes later a man your age approaches the two of you: it’s Malendol, a friend of Mirdania you know she has a particular interest in. You chat for a while, and soon after your friend is invited to dance.

“I’d like that, but…”

“No buts; you go and dance.” you tell her, well aware she’d decline in order not to leave you alone; you actually don’t mind, and the last thing you want is for your bad mood to ruin your friend’s night “Come on, off you go.”

“Are you sure it doesn’t bother you?”

“Absolutely sure. Malendol, keep her away for at least half an hour.”

He nods, grinning at you, and a moment later your friend is walking towards the dancefloor, her dress once more attracting the attention of whoever she walks past. 

Durin smiles at you, his arms resting on the counter. “That was kind of you.”

“No one wants to be the third wheel with a friend and a potential partner; and I don’t want to infect her with my bad mood.”

“Something bad happened?”

“No, and that’s the worst thing of all. I should be happy, but…”

“Hello.”

You realise it’s him even before looking; you remain still for a moment, suddenly struggling to swallow, and then turn, offering your best smile. “Hello.”

The first thing you notice, as natural for a future professional in the field of fashion, is his suit; expensive, clearly tailored to the body of the person wearing it, emphasising the width of his shoulders and his narrow waist, and paired with an elegant golden-coloured shirt. 

And then there’s him, his face, and no matter how much you like his clothes, that is what makes your heartbeat accelerate suddenly.

“I hope you won’t consider me too forward, but I noticed you from my table, and… I saw your friend left to dance. May I sit?”

“Of course.” you answer happily, and a moment later the man has occupied the stool next to yours. Like you had noticed, his hair is dark, and longer than most men’s, a soft-looking, lucid mantle falling to his waist; he has a classically beautiful face, the sort you usually find on marble statues or antique paintings, bright dark eyes, and a friendly, open smile.

He is handsome. No, you correct yourself as you move your legs away to make space for him, too slowly to avoid his knee brushing against yours, he’s absolutely gorgeous, without a doubt one of the most attractive men you have ever met -and that’s saying something, with all the male models you have seen at the various fashion shows you have attended- and the way he’s looking at you is making you feel as if Durin had turned the heating to the maximum.

“My name is Ereinion.” he introduces himself offering you a hand you shake; he is wearing several rings, even though not, you notice with relief, the one that suggests he may have a spouse waiting for him at home.

“I am (name), good to meet you.”

“... you said (name)?”

“Yes, why?” you ask, surprised; is there perhaps something wrong with your name?

“... nothing. The pleasure is all mine, (name); may I say I really like your suit? It’s very smart, I like the embroidery on the lapels.”

“Thank you.” you say, sincerely flattered “So, uhm, is this your first visit to the Moria?”

You spend a few minutes talking, the conversation flowing free and relaxed like it rarely happens to you with a person you have just met. You tell Ereinion you are still in school, but when he ask what you are studying you propose to change the topic; you’re usually more than happy to talk about your studies, and the Arda, and all that concerns fashion, but at the moment the less you think about your future, and how little chance you have to actually earn your living as a fashion designer, the better. 

“No problem.” he answers easily “Can I buy you a drink?”

You gently refuse, since two drinks per night is usually your limit and you don’t want to lower your guard in the company of a man you still don’t know you can trust. You and Ereinion end up talking for more than an hour, discussing everything from movies and literature, to travels and even politics. Your new acquaintance is an endless source of interesting facts and ideas; he has told you he’s self-employed -which, you gather, means he’s a businessman- and he travels much for work.

He’s interested in you, you can see it in his eyes, the feeling blatant and open even though he’s acting like a perfect gentleman, and even though this has happened to you before you feel both flattered and a little intimidated. Ereinion can’t be much older than you, but his suit, the heavy watch at his wrist, and something in the self-confidence he exudes suggests he is a man of wealth, which is as different from your situation as it can be, since you are attending the Arda on a scholarship and still have to rely on your parents’ help to pay rent. You seem to have hit it off, but you doubt you and this man have much in common…

“... and then my cousin, Galadriel, took offence, and threatened to carve that man’s face with a steak knife; had I not intervened, physically lifting her to carry her outside, she probably would have.”

“Oh my God!” you say, unable to stop laughing as Ereinion tells you about the latest disastrous family reunion he attended “I can’t believe she really threatened him!”

“She did. I am very fond of Galadriel, but sometimes I wish she had more self-control.” he admits with a soft smile; he remains silent for a moment, as if debating his next move, and then his hand covers the one you have placed on the bar’s counter, the touch feather-light but enough to make you perceive the warmth of his body “Would you like to dance?”

You swallow. “I’d love to.”

Durin looks approvingly at you as you let Ereinion’s hand at the small of your back guide you to the dancefloor; a moment later you have joined the couples gently swaying to the music, his hands resting on your hips, your arms circling his neck. He is the one leading, which is good, because by now you have completely stopped listening to the music, too focused on the firm, warm body embracing yours.

“What’s wrong?” Ereinion asks after a few minutes, his murmur caressing the shell of your ear. 

“Nothing!”

“I can feel you are tense; is something bothering you?”

“I’m fine, really.” you try to reassure him as you meet his gaze, but you don’t seem to succeed, because a moment later, with a jolt of panic, you feel him pulling back.

“(name), if I have… made you uncomfortable somehow, I am truly sorry.”

“You haven’t; really, err, it’s not your fault. You can’t help being so terribly handsome, after all.”

You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but you have, and blushing and covering your mouth with your hand doesn’t help. Ereinion grins, openly flattered.

“You really think so?” Despite your embarrassment, you find yourself smiling. “Oh, don’t be coy; I wanted to ask you if you ever considered a career as a model.”

“I… haven’t, actually; but thank you very much. I think you are extremely beautiful as well.”

“Well, thank you…”

You share a smile, the tension between the two of you dissipating. The next two hours pass quickly; you dance, you talk, you drink -a non-alcoholic for you- and in the end Ereinion accompanies you on the club’s tiny veranda for a breath of fresh air. You have met Mirdania’s eyes a couple times, as she danced with Malendol or sat with him and his friends, and you’ve seen approval in her eyes; clearly neither of you is disappointed her friend has found someone else to spend the evening with. 

“I like this place.” Ereinion comments as he rests his back against the wall by your side, his eyes focused on you rather than on the sky full of stars above you; he has already offered you his jacket to wear, in case you felt cold, and you declined, secretly flattered by the offer “I’ll have to thank the people who recommended it to me.”

“You have a favourite place here in the city?” “A few. I, err, haven’t been to a club, or any other place really, for a long time. I’ve been very busy with my work and… people say that I don’t know how to relax.”

It’s a feeling you know well. “And they are right?”

“They are. But I’m feeling very relaxed right now, which is pleasant.”

Ereinion smiles; and you thought he couldn’t look more gorgeous. “What are you thinking about?” he asks, and you hesitate only for a moment before answering in the only way you can: truthfully.

“I’m thinking that even though this is one of my favourite clubs and I had been in the company of my friend until a minute before I was feeling pretty down, so I really have to thank you for coming to talk to me; I feel much better now.”

“Glad I could help.” 

A moment of silence as Ereinion turns to look at you; his hand cups your cheek, and you forget how to breathe. “Do you want to know what I am thinking?” he asks softly, and you not imperceptibly, heart pounding in your chest “I’m thinking that you must be the most beautiful woman I have met in a long time, and I’m dying to kiss you.”

It’s as if you had been holding your breath ever since your gazes first met; and now, finally, you can exhale. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

You are surer of this than you are of your name, and you don’t care how desperate it makes you look to say it. “I am absolutely sure; please, I want it too, I want it so much…”

A moment later Ereinion has claimed your mouth in a searing kiss; you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his, and whatever he feels seems to please him, because you hear him moan in your mouth. His body is large, warm, powerful, and you lose yourself in the intensity of his embrace; your hands move up and down his chest, and Ereinion holds you by the hips as his tongue takes possession of your mouth. 

The next ten minutes pass as if in a dream. Ereinion is now kissing your neck, the sweet caress of his mouth leaving goosebumps behind it, and you moan out loud, well aware that whoever among the club’s clients -or worse even, Durin- felt the need for a smoke or a breath of fresh air could see you, and physically unable to care.

“Oh, God…”

“Good?”

As if he could doubt it! “More than good. Please, please don’t stop…”

He has no intention to, and he proves it by holding you tight as he moulds the shape of your body with his hands. You can feel him smiling against your mouth as he kisses you again, and for some reason the sensation fills your heart with joy… and then you jump, when Ereinion lifts your leg around his waist, pressing his hips against yours. 

“Fuck.” you murmur. You can feel how hard he is, and you barely know him, way too little for something like this to be the smart, or even just the safe, thing to do, but caring, reminding yourself of the rules you have set for yourself when you started dating as a teenager, is suddenly the hardest thing you ever had to do; you’ve never felt so aroused in your life, you want this man desperately, you need to feel his body against yours and in yours as soon as possible, you need to feel his hands on your skin and his mouth kissing every part of you…

Ereinion groans as he feels you rubbing yourself against him, desperately searching for some relief, a raw, blatantly erotic sound that makes you wish you were truly alone, naked, on a bed or whatever other surface sturdy enough to support your combined weight “God, you feel amazing…”

Your heart is pounding; your mind is spinning; your body is begging for contact, and if you don’t do something about it now you’ll end up on your knees in front of him - which will be undoubtedly amazing, even though not completely satisfying. So you meet his eyes and

“Can we go somewhere else?” you ask, and Ereinion grins. “Do you want to come to my place? My car is outside.” 

“Yes, it’s fine; I just need to tell my friend, and take my coat.”

He nods, clearly happy, and you return inside together, his arm resting on your shoulders. 

*****

Ereinion’s car is exactly like you had imagined, and exactly like him; large, elegant, powerful, and you feel yourself shivering with pleasure as you lower yourself on the leather seat, after he had chivalrously opened the door for you.

He drives unhurriedly among the city streets, focused on the road ahead but looking away to meet your eyes once in a while; you share a smile, no need for words between you.

You’re not at all surprised that, when the car finally stops, you have reached one of the most upscale neighbourhoods of the city, and the building in front of you must cost more per square meter than your yearly tuition at the Arda.

Ereinion once again opens the door for you, and offers you his hand to get out; you smile, secretly flattered. “Can I ask you a very straightforward question?”

“Of course.”

“You are rich, aren’t you?”

He laughs, sincerely amused. “I’m… comfortable.” he admits “I am fortunate enough to have a job that pays well, even though I do work hard and have paid my dues.”

You assure him that he has no need to justify himself, even though you must admit you do feel a little intimidated; most of your friends, and former partners, are or were students like you or people who work to support themselves, and while Ereinion looks only a few years older than you and doesn’t seem the sort of man who boasts about wealth, you have already perceived there is a huge gap between the two of you. Would he think less of you if you told him you still need your parents’ help to pay rent, don’t own a car, and still buy most of your clothes at the mall?

The sense of inferiority feels like a heavy and unpleasant weight on your stomach: still, he did not ask for your bank statement before bringing you home, and as you take his hand to be led inside, any fear and anxiety you may have felt disappears, leaving behind only joy and desire. Mirdania, who you have left in Malendol’s excellent care, asked in a whisper if you were sure of what you were doing, and you are, you are like you have rarely been of anything before.

You want him; and you only need to look at the handsome man now opening the house door -after you, miss- to know he wants you too. 

“Come, make yourself comfortable.” Ereinion invites you kindly as he guides you through the door, which is as elegant and refined inside as it looks outside, all marble and fine furniture “Something to drink?”

You tell him you’d be happy to have a glass of water, since anxiety has dried your mouth, and he leads you to the kitchen, where you find out that, as was to be expected, Ereinion does not live alone.

“This is Aiglos; Aiglos, meet (name).” he introduces you, fondness evident in his voice, as the beautiful German shepard that stood from his bed near the fridge approaches and starts sniffing you; the inspection must yield satisfactory results, because a moment later the dog is licking your hands “I’m sorry, I should have asked you if you have problems with dogs.”

You assure him that you don’t, even though you have never had a pet in your life, and briefly play with the animal, a beautiful adult specimen with black and brown fur and bright, intelligent eyes, while Ereinion takes care of your last drink of the day.

“So it’s only you and Aiglos?” you ask then, after you have quenched your thirst and his dog has gone looking for his toys in the living room “Living here, I mean.”

“Is this your way of asking whether I am married?”

You blush, unable to hide it behind your water glass. “No, I… I’m sorry, I was just thinking that this house seems too large for a single person…”

“It’s fine.” he reassures you with a smile “And it probably is, I have come to realise since I moved here. And I am free as air, I swear.”

You believe him; you have no reason to, all things considered, but you just do. “I am single as well, in case you want to know.”

“I do… even though I don’t doubt you have several admirers vying for your attention.”

You don’t, actually, even though the main reason you have been single for more than a year, after your latest partner cheated on you, is that you have been so focused on your studies, and the upcoming internship, to have much time to dedicate to relationships. 

It bothered you, at times; but right now, you couldn’t be more relieved. 

You place your empty glass in the sink, and smile as Ereinion takes you in his arms once more. “God, you really are gorgeous.” he murmurs; he’s holding you close, not hurting you but tight enough you would probably be unable to wiggle out if you wanted to.

Good thing, then, that I don’t.

“I haven’t done anything like this in at least five years, you know?” Ereinion murmurs; then, as if realising his words could be misunderstood: “Taken someone home, I mean.”

“If you’re… uncomfortable in any way, we don’t have to…”

“No, absolutely; it’s just that… the last time that person stole my wallet and my dog while I was asleep, so it’s not exactly a good memory.”

“Oh, God, that is horrible…”

“Well, I was able to find Aiglos at least, a few days later.”

“That’s good. And in any case…” you murmur as you slip your arms under his jacket, feeling the firmness of his torso against your body “... I can promise I want nothing from you, if not what you are willing to give. I… I had never felt like this before; I need you, Ereinion, I just need you to take me…”

He sighs, as if overwhelmed by what he feels. “Then I will.” he murmurs, before cupping your face in his hands once again “You have my word.”

You keep kissing as he guides you to his bedroom, where a huge bed, its dark-coloured sheets soft to the touch, is waiting for you. You start taking each other’s clothes off, and once both of your jackets have been abandoned on a chair, you hear Ereinion groan as he unbuttons your waistcoat. “I just wish I could tear this off you…”

You pout. “I think you liked my suit.”

“I love your suit; it’s very elegant and you look amazing in it. I just wish it was easier to take it off…”

In the end you manage, and within a few minutes your clothes are scattered around the room, and you’re both in your underwear. Ereinion guides you to the bed, kneeling on the floor between your legs as you kiss senselessly; his hand moves up and down your thigh, but a moment later you have unclasped your bra, and he is pulling you close by the hips to kiss your chest, whispering words into your skin that make you thank God the room is bathed by the pale moonlight, because you don’t want him to see you are blushing. 

You murmur his name as you arch your back, waves of pleasure running through you as he kisses and licks and sucks as if your breast were the last glass of water in a deserted world, hungry and reverent, almost worshipful, and your fingers play with his dark locks as you murmur how handsome he is, how good he’s making you feel, and how you can’t wait to feel him inside you. 

When he stops, you can see he’s grinning. “Up.” he orders, and you lift your legs and then your hips to let him take your panties off.

You are naked, naked on the bed of a man you have known for four hours, and you’ve never felt so happy in your life. Ereinion kisses your legs as he opens them, and then he’s standing, taking off his black pants to expose his strong, sensual body, which is even more handsome than you thought, so perfect you struggle to breathe as you admire him.

“You’re beautiful.” you murmur, and Ereinion smiles at you as he reaches you on the bed, looming over you. 

“I’m going to make you feel good.” he murmurs before kissing you once more “Just tell me if I hurt you or you want to stop.”

You appreciate the thought, but you know already nothing he’ll decide to do will make you want to stop. You sigh as you feel his body pressing against yours; your heart is pounding, desire tensing your muscles as every fiber of your being screams begging to be fucked, but at the same time you’re relaxed, at ease and safe as if you were in your own home, with a person you had known all your life, and with whom you shared something deep and real and destined to last.

It might be a sign; and it might be not. You don’t care about the future, just like you don’t care about the past, and the differences between your lifestyles. All that counts is the present, and what you’re living together, and oh God he’s started pushing and it feels so good he’s so big…!

“You’re so wet for me.” Ereinion groans; he smiles at you, eyes full of desire, and a moment later he is fully inside you.

Your lovemaking is slow, soft and intense, Ereinion hiding his face in the grove of your neck as he relentlessly pushes himself in, and in your delirium part of you fears he’s going to split you open, but you don’t care, because it feels so good, he’s so warm and strong and hard, and you’re moaning and crying and digging your nails in the flesh of his back -painful, theoretically, but Ereinion seems to appreciate- and begging him not to stop, because you love this and you love him too… 

World dissolves in ecstasy; you stop thinking, hold on to him, and let your body join his in the dance. 

*****

You really thought you had found something beautiful.

It’s the sound of water falling that wakes you the next morning, coming not from outside -the sky is clear, with no sign of rain- but from the room adjacent to the one you are in, a large, pristine bedroom with elegant modern furniture and a beautiful view of the city out of the windows. You have only a few minutes to observe it, since you were too busy for it last night, and to enjoy the quiet happiness bubbling in your heart, before the water in the en-suite bathroom is turned off, and a minute later Ereinion, wearing only a pair of dress pants, his hair still wet after the shower, enters, immediately walking to you.

“Good morning.” he greets you softly as he bends on the bed to kiss you; he is happy, and does nothing to hide it “Sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s no problem.” you answer happily; you are now sitting on the bed, not bothering to use the soft blankets to cover yourself as you savour the honey on his lips, and the warmth of his body still enveloping your skin. It has been the most amazing night of your life, and while you have no intention of saying it out loud, you know it’s the same for him “Can’t you stay a little longer? Please?”

“I really wish I could; but I have to meet someone soon.”

“A woman?”

“Yes; but it’s not like you think. It’s for work.” he hurries to explain; he cups your face in his hands, clearly anxious to convince you “I told you I wasn’t seeing anyone, and I’d never lie about something like this.”

“I believe you.” you assure him; you have no right to be jealous of him -nor he of you, clearly- but you can’t deny, at least in your heart, that knowing he is single is an enormous source of relief. Only a few hours, albeit very intense, after your first meeting you already feel Ereinion is a drug you could easily become addicted to, but at the moment you are too happy, and sated, to worry about it “I’m sorry, I don’t want to sound possessive.”

Ereinion assures you he is pleased to know you still desire his company, and you’re free to remain in bed as long as you want - and as long as you don’t take Aiglos with you when you leave.

“No, it’s fine; I have things to do as well.”

And you really do; according to your phone you have little more than two hours to go home, shower, change, and then go to the Arda in time to meet your mentor for the internship. Had things -specifically, your evening- gone differently, you would be trembling with anxiety; instead, you feel perfectly calm, excited but in control of yourself, ready to make a good impression on the famous designer you’ll be working under for six months. And after that, and after your diploma… well, you’ll have time to worry about the future in time, you decide; doing it in advance is pointless.

You take a quick shower -the bathroom is, just as the rest of the house, enormous, but it’s the sort of luxury that evokes cosiness, rather than unease- and by the time you are wearing your suit once again and have joined him in the living room, Ereinion has put an elegant white shirt on, filled Aiglos’ bowl with food, and prepared two cups of coffee, one of which he offers you with a smile.

“Something tells me you’re a black coffee sort of woman.” “I actually am!” you confess, impressed “How do you know?”

“Just a talent I was born with.”

Ereinion grins; he places his cup on the counter to kiss you once more, hard, loving, intense enough to make your head spin as you enthusiastically kiss him back. You’ve had sex three times already, but you’re not sated yet; part of you has already begun thinking you might never be, a thought that is both terrifying and exhilarating. 

“Tell me I can see you for dinner.”

“I can see you for dinner.”

He moans, even though not in the particular way you have already come to appreciate. “(name), please…”

“Sorry, sorry.” you murmur, raising your hand to touch his soft hair; you have spent the whole night making love but God, that simple contact is enough to make you tremble “I’d really love to. Believe me, if what I need to do today weren’t extremely important, I’d remain here waiting for you to come back.”

Another of those beautiful smiles, and then Aiglos comes in to reclaim both of his food and a bit of cuddles from you, both of which are readily offered to him. 

“He likes you.” Ereinion points out as he observes you playing with his dog; then, softly: “And I do too.”

“I like you too.” you readily admit, standing to look at him; again, you share a smile.

You leave the house together twenty minutes later. “The metro is that way, only five minutes away.” Ereinion informs you, pointing the direction with his finger “I can drive you home if you want, I need to take the car in any case, but I guess you wouldn’t accept, would you?” “I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn’t.” you say; he doesn’t seem the sort of man who stalks a woman after she broke up with him, but one can never be too sure. 

“It’s fine. I’ll see you tonight, then.”

You assure him he will, and that you really can’t wait for your date; you share a last, long kiss, and then Ereinion is looking at you as you move a few steps away, turn, and wave your hand good-bye before setting out.

*****

And now…

You walk through the Arda’s main door -there are no classes today, since it’s Saturday, but a few students come to take advantage of the well-equipped atelier to work on their creations, which means the building is technically open in the week-end as well- ten minutes before the appointed time for your meeting with your mentor at a quick but unhurried pace, wearing your best suit, which you have paired with a blouse of your creation. 

You should feel tired, since sleep was the last thing on your mind last night, but you aren’t: you feel lucid, excited but in control, ready to make a good impression without letting the fear for the future get you down. 

And tonight you are seeing Ereinion again. Thinking back to last night, part of you still can’t believe what happened was real and not the plot of a cheesy rom-com; but it was real, it happened, to you, and while you have never believed in love at first sight, you are determined not to let this chance go to waste. He is so handsome, and he seemed to be genuinely interested in what you had to say, and he took care of your pleasure as well as his, which is more than you can say for some of your past partners. There is so much you still don’t know about each other, and the thought of dating a wealthy, already self-sufficient person while you’re still a student relying on her family’s help should probably make you hesitate, but it does not. You don’t plan on becoming Ereinion’s kept woman, nor to let your relationship, should the two of you actually begin one, divert you from your studies, and you actually don’t care for his economic status either way. 

It’s less than twelve hours to your first date; you can’t wait, and you’ll need to think about what to wear… even though, you remind yourself as you quickly cross the main corridor, now you have to put aside your new fling, and focus on what could be your big chance to start building a career as a fashion designer.   

You meet Mirdania and Elrond in the tiny break-room on the first floor. Your friend, looking very smart as usual in a blouse and frilled skirt she bought expressly to improve it according to her personal style, smiles knowingly at you as he sees you approach. “Well, look who seems in a markedly better mood than last night.”

“I had a wonderful evening.” you admit “And, I’m meeting him for dinner.”

“Good for you. I do admit your new friend looks very handsome.” 

“I agree. What about you? Did you have fun?”

Your friend, blushing a bit, admits that Malendol did ask her out last night, which she accepted. You are discussing the possibility of organising a double date -at the Moria, obviously- when one of your lecturers enters the room. 

“Your mentors have arrived, and are ready to meet you.” they say, before explaining which room each of the designers is waiting in “You have one hour to make their acquaintance and discuss your internship, then you are all to come to the administration office to sign a few forms. Good luck to you all.”

You and Mirdania share an excited smile, and whisper good luck to each other before following Elrond out of the break-room. 

The class where Gil-Galad is waiting for you is at the end of the corridor; you reach it, take a deep breath as you square your shoulder, knock on the door, and open it.

“Good morning, sir. I am your new intern, (full name), and I am very happy for…”

“(name).” a soft voice interrupts you, and you blink, stopping dead as the door closes behind you. Then you see the person waiting for you, their hands and back resting on the edge of the professor’s podium, and you stop breathing.

The anguish on Ereinion’s expression is so intense it borders on panic; he starts walking towards you, slowly, like a hunter trying not to spook a doe… before he has time to shoot her.

“(name), I’m so sorry.” he says, his tone pleading “Let me explain… I swear I didn’t know…” 

May I say I really like your suit? It’s very smart, I like the embroidery on the lapels. This is what Ereinion said upon meeting you, an apparently sincere compliment that immediately charmed you. Not many men would have noticed a detail like that, let alone thought of complimenting it, but a person who knows much about fashion, who works in the field and loves it as much as you do, would have.

You can’t stop staring at him -him. HIM!- as the enormity of the truth comes crashing down on you, burying you alive. It’s not possible, you desperately tell yourself, suddenly feeling dizzy, there must be an explanation, it can’t be true…

But it is, the reality too clear and evident to be denied, and it is now standing in front of you, close enough you could touch him.

Ereinion is Gil-Galad. Gil-Galad is Ereinion. The famous fashion designer you couldn’t wait to work for and learn from, and the charming man who seduced you and gave you the best night of your life. They are one and the same, the two sides of the same coin, and they both made a fool of you. 

“I am sorry, truly.” he murmurs, kind and anguished as he takes your hands in his, but you have quickly stepped back, putting as much space between you as you can.

“No… no…” you stammer, barely aware of the words you are uttering; your head is spinning, and your legs a moment away from giving way, as you realise the enormity of the mess you have gotten yourself in “I can’t… it’s not possible…”

“(name), please… we can find a way to make things work, if you just let me explain…”

You don’t; you have no interest in whatever this man, whoever he is, may have to say, and you don’t want to remain in his presence a moment more, not to mention your eyes have already filled with tears and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how shattered you feel. So you swat his hand away, like you would do with an insect, and

“You… you bastard!” you scream in his face “You ruined everything!”

before turning and running out of the room, deaf to his pleads to stop. 

*****

You really thought you had made it. You really thought you had nothing to worry about. You really thought you had found something beautiful. And now… all of it has disappeared like snow at the coming of spring, leaving behind nothing but shame and rejection.

There is no alcohol in the apartment, since you usually prefer to drink socially rather than when alone, and this is at the same time a very good thing and the worst possible outcome. You spend two hours lying on your bed, crying inconsolably as you hide your face in your pillow; your phone hasn’t stopped ringing ever since you ran out of the Arda, but you didn’t even bother taking it out of your bag. You can’t be fully sure all those calls and texts are his, and not of Mirdania, who might have heard what you did and be consequently worried about you, or someone else, but you don’t care; you feel so humiliated, so completely annihilated, you don’t even bear the thought of talking to your friend or your family.

You still can’t believe it. You were so excited, and nervous, of meeting Gil-Galad, a famous fashion designer whose work you had long admired, and then you end up in bed with him, making love with an intensity you had never experienced before, without even realising.

Is Ereinion his real name, and the one all fashion fans in the country know a pseudonym? Or is it the opposite? Did he realise the woman in front of him was his future intern when you exchanged names at the club, and decided to have sex with you simply because he found you desirable, and to hell with the work relationship you were due to begin only a few hours later, or he seduced you with the precise intent of making you his lover as well as his intern? Did he plan on spending his days teaching you the finer points of the art of fashion, and his nights with you in his bed?

Well, if that’s the truth, you’ll have to disappoint him. A relationship, whether romantic or sexual, between a mentor and a mentee would be absolutely inappropriate, it might get you in trouble should the Arda learn about it, and the power imbalance alone is something you are determined to avoid, because how could you care, and trust, and deal as equals with a man who could make it impossible for you to be hired in any fashion house in the country after a simple fight?

You’ve known him for less than twenty-four hours, and he clearly does not deserve your affection given how he deceived you, but the thought of losing Ereinion, that you’ll never see him again and never get to feel the emotions he filled your heart with in the few, precious hours you have spent together, breaks your heart. And that’s not all: you’ll also have to give up on your internship, because since the simple thought of seeing Ereinion again feels unbearable, how can you hope to work closely with him for six months? Despite his undeniable talent as a designer you are not even sure you want to work for him; what if he actually asks for sexual favours in exchange for his teachings…?

A small part of you is aware you are being too harsh in judging him, and that his heartbroken expression when you met at the Arda clearly suggests Ereinion was as unaware of your future working relationship as you were when you met, but you are too heartbroken to reason. The internship was all you aspired to and worked for for almost a year, you had invested so much on it, hoping it could help you start building a career as a fashion designer, like you had dreamt of doing since you were little, and now all of it was in vain. And last night… you really don’t believe in love at first sight, but you had never felt so intensely attracted to someone; you sincerely enjoyed the time you spent talking and dancing, and your lovemaking was sweet, intense, even loving; Ereinion had been everything you had ever looked for in a partner and then more: handsome, passionate, generous, able to share his pleasure with you and to take care of yours.

You really thought you could build something together; at the very least you wanted to, desperately, and the loss of that potential future makes you feel more lonely than ever. 

Only a few hours ago you felt amazing, about to begin a prestigious work experience and pursue a relationship with a partner who had stolen your heart; and now you have neither, you have lost everything, and while there will -might- be other job opportunities, and other men, you can’t help but think this was your chance, he was, as a lover or as a mentor if not both things together, and you have wasted it all away…

Deep in your sadness as you are, it actually takes you a while to realise the doorbell is ringing, more and more insistently. You ignore it, since you have never felt so unsociable and really don’t want to see anyone, but after a while the shrill sound hurting your eardrums is replaced by a voice, one you have heard for the first time only twelve hours ago but that you can’t help but recognise…

“(name), it’s me!” Ereinion calls for you from outside the door “Please, it’s not like you think! Let me explain!”

He came to your apartment! You never told him where you live, which means he must have found it on your curriculum, which the Arda has provided him with. Anger mounts inside you; how dares he? Had you wanted to talk to him you would have answered his calls, or called him yourself, since you exchanged numbers; what gives him the right of coming to bother you at home?

You rise from your bed and walk to the door. “Go away!” you cry, forcing yourself to make those words sound like an order rather than a plea.

“Not unless you let me talk to you.” he promptly answers from outside.

“Listen, Ereinion or whatever your name is…”

“Ereinion is my name. Gil-Galad is my second name, that I use for…”

“... you have until the count of five to leave, otherwise I’ll call the police to say you are threatening me. One!”

“You won’t do it. You’re not that cruel.” He is not wrong, and the fact he’s still able to see right through you pains and angers you both; you ball your fists, wishing he could see how furious you are.

“Are you really sure?” you ask in your most cruel tone “If you get arrested the papers might come to know about it; is this the sort of publicity you want for your brand? Two!”

“(name)...”

“Stop saying my name, it won’t help you. Three!”

“(name), I swear I didn’t know!”

You stop counting, hesitating despite yourself. “It changes nothing.” you whisper softly, resting your forehead against the door “What is done is done. I can’t work for you after what we shared last night, and I don’t feel comfortable dating you either, since you are everything I wish to be and will never get to become. I am very sorry, but we should both forget we ever met.”

You hear him grunt. “Don’t I get a saying in this? It concerns me as well.” he points out unhappily “It’s also my relationship, and my job.”

“You don’t. I’m very sorry, but this is the only thing I feel comfortable with doing. Ereinion, please, if you care for me just go.”

Silence.

“I know you’re still there. Please…”

“I like the way you say my name.” you hear him murmur; his voice is hoarse, deep, and damn, you wish it didn’t make you shiver “I like it very much, you know? I wanted to make you scream nothing more all night long, and I almost did…”

You strife a sob as the unbidden memories of your night together fill your mind; your self-control has reached its limit, and you don’t know how much longer you can resist before opening the door and throwing yourself into his arms to beg him to make it all go away. 

“Please. Please just go…”

“I will; you have my word. But let me speak to you face to face, please. I swear the next time you say leave, I’ll walk out of this door and you’ll never see me again.”

The thought is terrifying; a moment later you have opened the door, and moved silently aside to let Ereinion, who looks as tormented as you feel, walk inside.

The door closes, and the two of you can do nothing but stare at each other. You must look horrible -half dressed, puffy eyes, make-up smudged- but there is nothing but tenderness in Ereinion’s eyes as he looks at you; tenderness and heartbreak.

“I swear I did not know.” he starts after a minute “I know the matter is more complicated than that, but I want you to know. When I met you last night, I had no idea you were my trainee. Remember you never told me you attend the Arda, or even just that you study fashion; there are so many universities and schools in this city, how was I supposed to know?”

Once again, he’s not wrong. “But had the school not given you my curriculum? (name) is a pretty uncommon name, didn’t you remember reading it? There’s even my picture on it!”

Openly embarrassed, Ereinion admits he didn’t - not properly. “I received an email from the school yesterday morning, with the data of the student I was going to mentor. I was actually excited about it, but I was busy with something else at the time and, err, I just read the text real quick, without opening the attachment. Your name did sound familiar, but I didn’t make the connection. I only realised what was happening fifteen minutes before you arrived, when I finally opened that blasted -I’m sorry- email.”

“I see.” you murmur, and while you are relieved he did not try to deceive you, as he said, the problem at your hands is much bigger than a simple lack of goodwill. 

“The suit I wore yesterday… I made it myself, you know?” you murmur as you hug yourself; it’s pointless to mention it, but you want him to know “It’s the piece that won me the internship.”

Ereinion smiles; you have no way of knowing, since you’ve only met yesterday, but his closest associates would marvel at how often he’s doing it while he’s with you. “I should have known; it is lovely. And I went to the school’s atelier, I saw your creations; you really are talented, (name). I would be proud to work with you… and I would have thought the same had I not met you last night at the club.”

It is a beautiful thing to say, beautiful enough to fill your eyes with tears. “Thank you; I would have been happy to work with you too.”

“Then let’s do it. I have a new collection coming out next year, I want your input, there are so many things I want to discuss with you, people I want to introduce…”

“But we can’t. Ereinion, I…” you sigh, because nothing is harder than making a case while at the same time desiring the opposite “It’s always been important for me to keep my private and work life separate, which is why I would never date one of my lecturers, and it’s the same, if not more, for a mentorship.”

“Because you think I could fire you if you refuse to sleep with me?” “I don’t think you would; but it wouldn’t be fair for you either. What if I make a mistake you would dismiss someone else over, or I am up for some promotion someone else deserves more? I would never ask for any special treatment, but I don’t want you to have to choose between making me happy and treating me fairly. Becoming a fashion designer has been my dream since I was ten, but I don’t want people to say I have built my success because I slept with someone.”

You both reflect on the matter for a minute; Ereinion folds his arms to his chest, as if he had to physically stop himself from reaching out and embracing you. “And I guess you would not want me as a partner, since you can’t have me as a mentor.”

“I wish it was that easy. I do want you; I want you desperately. But knowing how successful you are, and the fact I haven’t even started my career, and this whole mess with the internship… I don’t think it would work; I need to be in a relationship where there is no power imbalance, and I’m afraid this is not our case.

“So you’re throwing away everything we have? Everything we could have?”

“It’s not like I want to!” you cry out, frustrated; why can he not see how much you’re hurting? “What I feel for you, what I have shared with you… I had never felt it before; but I am not going to sacrifice my principles, and my self-respect, for a lover. Not even you, Ereinion; and if you can’t understand it, and accept it, you’re not the sort of man I want to be around.”

Silence falls; your heart has the time to pound five times before the tall, handsome man in front of you sighs, takes a step forward, and cautiously reaches out with his hand. “May I touch you?” “I am not radioactive.”

He grins, and a moment later he’s holding you in his arms. “There might be a way for you not to have to give up on your internship.” he murmurs “You could do it with someone else.”

“... what?”

“I could swap interns with another of the designers. Celebrimbor is set on working with his mentee, who I have realised is your friend Mirdania, but Cirdan is an old friend, and when I spoke to him he said he doesn’t mind taking you and letting me take his new intern, Elrond. You would love working with him, I’m sure; Cirdan is a gentleman, and knows more about the business than any person I know. You would have much to learn from him.”

You consider the matter for a minute, safely held in his embrace. “You told him why you can’t work with me?” “I told him we are family friends, and therefore it wouldn’t have been proper for us to work together. It’s not exactly the truth, but I think it was a more appropriate explanation; and he promised he’ll keep the truth for himself.”

Working for a successful designer like Cirdan is an opportunity anyone in your situation would give an arm and a leg to get; and you must admit it, the prospect is exciting. 

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I don’t want you to lose this internship, (name); you deserve it, and it would be a great opportunity for your future.” Ereinion murmurs; he kisses your hair, sweet and chaste “I don’t want you to have to give up on your dreams… but, if I may be selfish just for a minute, I also wish you wouldn’t give up on us simply because we’re working in the same field.”

“I don’t work; I’m still a student.” you mumble; you rest your cheek against his shoulder, and suddenly you feel as if you hadn’t rested in a year.

“You know what I mean. (name), do you really think I care about that? Because I don’t, and the last thing I want is you to feel you have something to prove, or some standard to reach, in order to be somehow… worthy of me. And you shouldn’t either.”

He’s right, and you know it; you never thought Erenion could lose interest in you, or not consider you a partner on equal terms, simply because he’s more successful than you - which is an unfair comparison to begin with, since your career hasn’t even started yet. The problem is you, and your insecurities, which maybe you’ll never get rid of completely, but as he said, you shouldn’t allow them to stop you from pursuing a relationship with a person you sincerely care about. 

You can become a successful fashion designer relying on your own strength; and you can keep your private and professional life separate, like you’ve always done.

You feel him smile as you circle his shoulders with your arms, and now you’re holding each other, the intimacy different from what you shared last night, but equally precious. “I should probably go back to the school.” you murmur “To talk to mister Cirdan, and the administration office.”

“Sounds fair; as long as you remember you have a date tonight.”

You assure him you do; you share a smile. “Can I drive you there?”

“I’d like that. Come, I need a minute to prepare.”

You share a new kiss, and Ereinion smiles as you take his hand to guide him inside.

that was so kind of him to do, god knows Prokofiev needed it

Dmitri Shostakovich at Sergei Prokofiev's funeral, 1953.

For context, Prokofiev and Stalin died on the same day- March 5, 1953. Because Stalin's funeral was such a major event in the Soviet Union, Prokofiev's was largely overlooked, despite the fact he was one of the leading Soviet composers of his day. Relatively few people attended his funeral, Shostakovich among them.

Shostakovich and Prokofiev were not particularly close, and had a thorny professional relationship- much of the correspondence between them that I've been able to find appears to be formal criticism of each other's works. As Prokofiev was from an older generation- he was born in 1891, while Shostakovich was born in 1906- they did not always see eye-to-eye musically; Shostakovich experimented with the avant-garde when possible, perhaps in part due to his musical maturation during the socially-liberal NEP era, while Prokofiev's style tended to be more conservative and neoclassical- picking up more influence from Imperial-age composers and fellow emigres to the west (he lived in France and the United States before returning to the Soviet Union in 1936). Their generational difference also partially accounted for how they responded to harsh government criticism- Shostakovich was impacted by the consequences of his 1936 denunciation all his life and, while he suffered greatly during his second denunciation in 1948, was able to develop public and private personas, in both the musical and ideological spheres, to preserve himself and his artistry. However devastating as it was for Shostakovich, the 1948 denunciations took a greater toll on many other composers, Prokofiev included. As Prokofiev did not believe he would be harshly denounced as Shostakovich had been in 1936, he was far less prepared for the censorship and attacks he faced in 1948. As a result of the denunciations, combined with his declining health, his artistic productivity decreased, and he largely regulated himself to writing basic ideological works towards the end of his life.

This is a letter Shostakovich wrote to Prokofiev on the subject of his Seventh (and last) Symphony:

There's speculation as to whether or not Shostakovich was actually impressed by Prokofiev's Seventh Symphony. As Prokofiev was in decline at the time of writing it, the symphony has been criticized for being banal and not being particularly innovative; Rostropovich even claimed that Prokofiev added in its final flourish not for artistic purposes, but to have the piece nominated for a Stalin Prize, which would have meant money and a boost to his reputation after it suffered in 1948. (The Stalin Prize has its own complicated history in its role in Soviet music, and although it was the highest award a Soviet composer could earn, it could sometimes be awarded as a sort of backhanded punishment- an encouragement for composers to write the "right" sort of music, especially after they had been criticized for "formalism." Nonetheless, winning it after suffering a denunciation could mean financial and political security.) Did Shostakovich- who had often traded criticisms with Prokofiev over music- actually like this piece, or was this an effort to encourage a fellow artist to keep composing after suffering mental and physical ailments? This was a private letter and not a public statement, and Shostakovich was typically very straightforward about critiques, so if the entirely positive sentiment for the piece wasn't genuine (the only critique here is that Shostakovich says he wishes the entire symphony was encored!), the letter may have come from a place of concern.

Perhaps the most striking thing about this letter is the line, "I wish you another hundred years to live and create. Listening to such works as your Seventh Symphony makes it much easier and more joyful to live." Maybe by telling Prokofiev that he wished him another hundred years to live and create, Shostakovich was not simply praising the symphony, but encouraging Prokofiev- a composer whom he was often on icy terms with- that he needed to keep living and creating, during a time when it was becoming more and more difficult for him to do so.

Kidnap fam

oh yea they’re kind of related this is so fucked up

and I have to admit it didn’t meant to go downhill like this when it was in my head

I love how there’s so much Gil-galad on my page teehee

in honor of thanksgiving, please reblog with a character(s) you’d rather feast on instead of a traditional turkey dinner