#ofthebravc

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                                                   The light of the Silmarils still haunted him.

Caught on some halo of pure night like little stars shining above in warning of his doom.

There had been some fuss over him- too many people crowding around him, touching him, talking to him. It had been too much and Maeglin had fled to his home and his rooms in isolation. He could think in the quiet there. He had to think about his lost time, how he had even reached Gondolin on only his bare feet without knowing the way.... He didn’t know and part of him feared that he hadn’t been alone. You aren’t, you never will be. A little voice cooed in his head and he shook it to try and push the sound away. It was a figment. It wasn’t real.

Regardless if it was real or not he did not move until his men had picked the lock to his door and had begged him to let them see to him. He didn’t really recall their words- gentle assurances as they undressed and bathed him and had a healer look at his wounds still weeping blood and pus. No one mentioned the two that had not returned but he felt their presence from the edge of his mind. Peering in with eyes like coals, hot and heavy on him. 

                                              Tell them, tell them they pressed but he couldn’t.

His words escaped him. He found he could open his mouth but nothing would leave him- not air, not sound. If he intended to speak of what the dark one had deemed secret his words were stolen out of exsistence. He could feel the pull of tiny threads, invisible strands of fea or star light or perhaps magic keeping him quiet and it was well for he did not know what to say.

His silence only made the gossip worse however and there was no silence as the miners of the House of the Mole talked with those of the Hammer. “He won’t speak of what happened but he is so horribly injured. His back has been torn to shreds.” One mousy elleth spoke worriedly, her ears pulled back. “We don’t even know if Muile and Calarus are dead or still in whatever dark place he escaped from...” She shuddered as the ellon she spoke to shook his head. 

random positivity thingy // @ofthebravc // not accepting

@trickstercaptain : The moment I saw lottie’s blog I was immediately blown away by how incredible your Jack was. It was like one of those cheesy chick flick moments when you spot the girl across the room and instantly fall in love. Jack is a popular character, for obvious reasons. So there are a lot of Jack Sparrow blogs out there but none of them understand him as clearly and portray him as articulately as lottie does. He’s a very multi-layered character. As fun, as he is to watch there’s a lot of complexity and darkness to him as well. They’ve found the perfect balance of witty, charming Jack and angsty, ‘the men in my life have ruined me and now I trust no one’ Jack. When Jack comes on screen during the trilogy lottie is the only person I think of and when Jack comes on in potc 4 & 5 I think ‘lottie could do 10x better’. Unfortunately, they’re British, think tea is better than coffee, and call elevators “lifts” so we’ll never truly be friends. But, y’know, they’re otherwise great.

@hangtherules but also @etchedinfire / @materpasserem  : Up until I met Jen 2 years ago I actually disliked Elizabeth as a character (couldn’t tell you why though??). But the way jen portrays her made me change my entire opinion on the character. Now I love Elizabeth Swann, and I love Jen for leading me to the Truth. I love their Elizabeth. Her voice is so strong in everything jen writes on her blog. Everything she does and says are things I would imagine Elizabeth Swann doing in the trilogy films. They are the one and only Elizabeth for me. Neither Teague or I could imagine interacting with any other Elizabeth. As a whole though, Jen is an incredibly talented writer. She’s able to make writing complex characters like Tia Dalma seem easy to write. I consider myself so incredibly lucky to call them a good friend and write with them as often as I do.

SEND MY MUSE ANONS PRETENDING TO BE SOMEONE THEY CARE ABOUT. THE TWIST: MAKE THESE ANONS AS HEARTBREAKING, DISAPPOINTING, OR ANGER-INDUCING AS POSSIBLE.

Pretend to give them bad news, pretend to break up with them, pretend to make an upsetting confession - as long as it hurts, it’s fair game.

{ @ofthebravc​ || James }

A nightmare. It must be a nightmare. And yet, she knows that she is awake. Knows that, despite her injuries, surely she is not so bad as to hallucinate.

And yet, what other explanation is there for James––

James who had welcomed her back with open arms, no matter that they had been separated by decades, over a century, in fact.

James who had forgiven her for what she had done with that same boundless love and compassion he has always seemed to possess.

Her James.

––to be standing in his (their?) room, looking at her with such utter heartbreak? What other explanation could there be for those despairing words he utters, words that cut like knives into her very soul.

“James, you were never a game to me! You––”

How could she put into words what he was and is to her? How could she make him see? To understand?

How selfish it seems to her, were she to ramble on about how she had suffered. About how it had almost killed her to leave him, especially in such a state as he had been when she had taken her leave. When she had run away. All of the reasonings she had told herself for years seemed to pale and turn to dust to be swept away by the wind in the face of his agony.

What right had she to speak of her own suffering after what she had done to him? After how she had abandoned him exactly when he may well have needed her most. After how she had allowed him to think her dead, to leave him alone for so, so many years…

None. She has no right.

Tears falling, she looks to him, her own pain clear on her face, in the way that her entire being seems to turn dim and dull, darkened by the weight of her guilt and her sorrow for what she had done to this man. To her love.

“You were  n e v e r  a game to me. You were and are and always will be– my heart, my soul, my everything!  I cannot ever explain– how sorry I am to have– to have hurt you and I could never atone– for what I did. I could spend the rest of– of eternity– apologizing and it would never– never  be enough.”

Bringing her hands to cover her face, she curls in on herself, sobs soon wracking her tiny frame, managing to say no more than one small, fractured confession.

“Ni aron– umlan maech, … edrach– draemith……”

SEND MY MUSE ANONS PRETENDING TO BE SOMEONE THEY CARE ABOUT. THE TWIST: MAKE THESE ANONS AS HEARTBREAKING, DISAPPOINTING, OR ANGER-INDUCING AS POSSIBLE.

Pretend to give them bad news, pretend to break up with them, pretend to make an upsetting confession - as long as it hurts, it’s fair game.

{ @ofthebravc​ || Declan & James }

“I– I didn’t! I would have known if––!”

Would he? Would he have known? What if he had lost control again? Had he blacked out recently? He can’t remember. He can't––

And then there is rage even as tears fill his eyes.

“No………… NO! YOU’RE LYING!“ 

Forcing himself to his feet, he stumbles forward, clumsily reaching for the speaker of such terrible words only for them to dart out of the way. ”I WOULD NEVER––!“

A lunge this time that sends him crashing into a mirror, shattering it, shards flying everywhere, biting into skin. Blood, he can smell it. Feel the creature within rumbling and clawing to be free.

He does not care. He shoves it back down, smothers it with as much ferocity as he throws an unfortunate vase at the form retreating out his bedroom door.

It can’t… He can’t have…

He has to know.

Leaving his room, he stumbles through the halls, nothing but sheer desperation keeping one foot moving in front of the other.

He wouldn’t have… It would never go so far as that… He’ll show him. He didn’t. He could never had done that.

Dear God, please don’t let him have…  

Only a moment more and he staggers into the familiar office space. Blood running in rivulets down his left arm, a new gash on his face, and yet still perhaps most concerning is the agonized expression on his face as his gaze settles on James––

James. Sitting at his desk, teasing Tesla, seemingly without a care in the world.

James. His neck completely unmarred.

James. Alive.

SEND MY MUSE ANONS PRETENDING TO BE SOMEONE THEY CARE ABOUT. THE TWIST: MAKE THESE ANONS AS HEARTBREAKING, DISAPPOINTING, OR ANGER-INDUCING AS POSSIBLE.

Pretend to give them bad news, pretend to break up with them, pretend to make an upsetting confession - as long as it hurts, it’s fair game.

{ @ofthebravc || Nigel }

He couldn’t believe his eyes at first. When he had looked up from his half empty third––or fourth, or fifth––bottle of wine, there had been Nigel. 

Nigel. 

Standing in the middle of the room. Standing there as though he had every right to be. As though he hadn’t been dead and buried for decades.

And yet, as soon as that strange yet all too familiar shade had begun to speak, Nikola wished he had never appeared at all.

“You… You don’t mean that,” he says, his voice far too quiet to be that of Nikola Tesla. with his penchant for being loud and snarky and indifferent as to what anyone thinks of him. Anyone except this man standing before him. 

“Nigel, I…” Scrambling to his feet, he takes a step forward, only for Nigel to step back, and is that disgust in his eyes? The very thought is enough to shatter the already broken remains of Nikola’s heart and he swallows hard, blinking to clear his suddenly misty vision.

“You have to understand, Nigel, please. I wasn’t the same after you… after you left. Everything was wrong and I was by myself and I––” And yet, how weak can he be? Sniffling before this man who would return only to judge him, as the others do. How dare he! How dare he treat him so coldly, to treat him with such derision, when this is his fault! 

“And––And I was by myself again! After you  s w o r e  to me you would never leave me again and you did! You left and all of the others hated me and I was alone and––and…”

Yet, just as quickly as his anger has swelled, it ebbs, then falls away entirely, leaving slender shoulders slumped, leaving the normally upbeat vampire looking completely and utterly defeated, hopeless. 

Gaze dropping to the floor, he eases himself down once more, long, skinny limbs fold in on themselves as he draws them close, as though by doing so he might protect himself from the condemnation of his once-friend.

“You left me after you promised… you  p r o m i s e d …”

POSITIVITY EXPERIMENT

@ofthebravc​

Look at all my smiley babies. Basically me right now. :’)

Likewise, you know how much I respect and adore you. Honestly, I don’t even know what I would do without you. You are one of the most incredible people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and you are, without doubt or question, one of my best friends.