Serenity
she/her or they/them is fine29BritishGryffindorLGBTQ+Tracking #fikidurinRequests are open! I ship Fili/Kili, among other things.I know that's not everyone's cup of tea, so if you'd like to follow me anyway, I tag everything with both #fiki and #durincest for your blacklist needs.
We’re back with your favourite event of the festive season!
We would like to invite you to help us decorate our virtual fandom Christmas tree! With shiny, new, delicious content!
Bear with, we’ll try to explain:
Fanart = Baubles
Fanfic = Paper chains
Photosets = Lights
This will make sense in a minute, we promise.
I would like to participate as a writer:
Step 1: Message @linane-art to request one of our festive photosets. You can do so between now and 13th of December - no sign up needed.
Step 2: Write something based on the photoset. Minimum 700 words, no max, Fili/Kili or any fictional Dean/Aidan pairing. You’ve created a paper chain for our tree.
Step 3: Don’t post it, submit it to us.
Step 4: You can do this again (or as many times as you like), but you must submit one before requesting another.
You must submit at least some ficlets before 13th of December.
You will be offered a chance to continue writing after the 13th of December, but we want at least one complete wave of responses by then, so we can queue our content.
I would like to participate as an artist:
Step 1: Message @linane-art to request a bauble outline template.
Step 2: Within the bauble draw a little fanart. Photomanips are also allowed, but just edits or photosets won’t work for this. Must be Christmas or season-themed (no prompts, do what you like). Fili/Kili or any fictional Dean/Aidan pairing.
Step 3: Don’t post it, submit it to us.
Step 4: You can do this again (or as many times as you like), but you must submit one before requesting another.
You must submit at least some fanarts before 13th of December.
You will be offered a chance to continue drawing after the 13th of December, but we want at least one complete wave of responses by then, so we can queue our content.
Decorating the tree:
Between 13th and 24th of December @gatheringfiki will be posting all your creations (decorations)
We will also re-use some of last year’s decorations: photosets from 2020 will be reblogged between 1st and 12th of December to whet your appetie.
Baubles are precious and will be re-used year on year - we’re making a stash!
Questions, feedback, ideas, comments - please let us know!
Day 04: Treat! Magic spells scribbled down on post-it notes and stuck all over the place.
A random witch!Kili AU :) [AO3]
Kili is disorganised.
Not that he’d ever admit it. Not to himself, not to anyone else. It’s not his fault really, it’s that he sort of forgets everything. Which means he has to scribble down every stray thought he has on a scrap of paper, or lose it forever.
(There are 108 notes that remind Kili that he really needs to tidy up today, lost under spell books and serving as coasters for half-forgotten mugs of tea.)
Kili flips through another old dusty tome, and scribbles a few key words from a spell onto a neon pink post-it note, that joins another dozen or so, stuck to a lamp at the edge of his desk.
“So close,” he mutters, and reaches for another sip of his tea. His hand overshoots, clattering against the edge of cup. Time slows as he watches it fall, and then stops altogether, the liquid solidifying in freefall as it pours towards the priceless books in its path.
Kili swipes the books aside and conjures a towel, placing it in the path of the drink, before time unfreezes.
The cup hits the cushioned landing, its liquid spilling out and immediately absorbed. Kili sees none of this happen, his nose already in the next book.
Time is limited, although not for him. His powers give him a supernaturally long life. But when his heart belongs so thoroughly to a human, Kili needs to find a way to break the imbalance. Either he needs to become mortal, or Fili needs to evolve into something more.
He looks up from his work two hours later to see darkness has fallen. The forgotten mugs of tea are gone, the post-it notes of spell haphazardly littering the room are placed into neat piles at his desk. Even the earlier spillage has been properly cleaned up, as if it had never happened.
Kili feels a gentle breeze behind him, and tilts his head back to look up at Fili. “I did it again, didn’t I?”
Fili smiles, and leans down to ghost a kiss on the tip of his nose. It feels warm and sends tingles through Kili’s nerves. Flickers of magic crackle from his fingertips, and he reaches for Fili’s hand, tracing a pattern of a heart over his knuckles. The blue-orange trail lingers for a few moments, like the path of a sparkler.
“Only for a few hours this time,” Fili teases. “Think I can persuade you to take a break for the night, and spend some time with me?”
Kili’s only response is to tug Fili down and claim his lips thoroughly.
We’re back with another exciting, brand new event! Broadly speaking, between the 1st and 31st of Oct we’ll be going around your houses and asking for a Trick or Treat*!
* Some imagination will be required.
This time we welcome headcanon and meta-chatter, as well as fanfic and fanart, for all those instances when you have good ideas, but you just don’t feel like developing them into a full story.
This event requires no sign-up.
Step 1: Pick 3 of your own Verses. (Verse = the universe, setting and a particular version of the characters, as shown in one of your stories/series). Usual pairings apply. These are now your children - They will be relevant later.
Step 2: Declare your Verses. By this we mean: re-blog this post with the 3 Verses you’ve chosen in the reblog. That way you don’t go switching your children on the quiet, it’s all out in the open, and you get a bit of a challenge.
Step 3: Every day, there will be a brand new post going up, saying: “*Knock knock* Trick or Treat?” They will be dated (01/10, 02/10, 03/10 etc.). Please always go by the latest one, as the old ones will not be monitored any more.
Step 4: When you see the post you may choose to open the door*. If you do, it means you’re ready to play. To open the door, simply reply to that post with either ‘Tirck’ or ‘Treat’ and the number for that day (e.g. Treat 07). There is a new ‘Trick’ and a new ‘Treat’ prompt every day, hence why the new post every day and the numbering. Generally speaking, ‘Treat’ prompts are nice and ‘Trick’ prompts are not so nice. You decide which one you want. More about this below.
Step 5: We will then contact you on Tumblr chat and give you the prompt of your chosen type for that day. Once given the prompt you can’t change it for the other type.
Step 6: You now have to create something, using that prompt, specifically for one of the Verses you chose (or 2, or all 3, if you wish). You can take however long you want (but remember, there will be a new post tomorrow) and there are no word limits.
Step 7: Post the thing you created on your Tumblr.
Step 8: Register your response here. This is so we can reblog it on GF. Tags are garbage, but if you wanna use it, it’s #GF’s Trick or Treat 2021
Step 9: If you wish to play again, simply look out for the next daily post and choose the type of prompt you like.
About types of prompts and info for Artists wishing to take part below:
As promised, we will try to run a Durin’s Day Gift Exchange again this year, provided we get a minimum of 10 people signed up :) If we can’t get enough people, we’ll try to run a different event or have a break.
You know how everybody is always going: ‘I’d die if someone drew something based on what I write!’ and ‘I wish someone wrote me something based on what I draw!’? We’re going to make this happen for you!
Now, according to this source, the Durin’s Day this year falls on the 6th of October. What a perfect opportunity to make someone’s day, we thought!
The Plan:
We’re looking to pair up fanartists (including graphics/edits makers) with fanfic authors
If you sign up, you will be expected to create a gift for your partner: either as a part of a joint collab or based on their existing works (art or fic)
If you decide to do a collab, it has to be a brand new idea (not an existing verse), which the two of you will work on together, one writing, the other doing the art for it.
If you decide to base your gift on your partner’s existing work, you can pick anything they published so far. You will have a month to familiarise yourself with their works and create your gift. As a bonus, your own work gets some extra exposure too :)
Guideline effort required: we suggest minimum around 3.5k words and ah, equivalent in artwork. (How do you quantify artwork?!) Like, decent stuff, folks.
Whatever you create is kept a secret until the 6th of Oct (i.e. Durin’s Day), when everyone posts their gifts.
Tag your creations #Durin’s Day 2021 (with spaces) and we will reblog it
Please Note:
You agree that someone else creates something based on your work. Could be a spin-off, fanart, little story, graphic etc. But basically it’s somebody else’s interpretation of your universe.
We accept all the usual pairings (i.e. Fili/Kili or any fictional pairings based on Dean’s and Aidan’s characters). We’ll do our best to accommodate pairing preferences, butif we can’t, we’ll contact you.
The worst thing that could happen with this event is if multiple people drop off throughout. Whilst we understand that RL > fandom, please keep in mind that someone else is creating something based on your work and will be looking forward to it just as much as you are. Please keep your partner and us updated with your progress.
Dates:
28 Aug - 03 Sept (ish) - Both Artist and Writer signups open
4th Sept - Pairs are assigned at random and published in a post
6th Oct - You post your gifts for each other, we reblog them
We will go ahead if we get a minimum of 5 artists and 5 writers signed up.
Sign ups:
To sign up, please populate this form.
We are no longer accepting sign-ups via a message to GatheringFiki, as in the previous years we have seen this go wrong numerous times.
Yes, both artist sign ups and writer sign ups are open immediately, as of right now, simultaneously. Go forth.
We will also consider some gen (non-shippy) pairs, if we happen to get both artists and writers who don't ship the characters (e.g. Fili & Kili)
This event is on a first come, first served basis, so please sign up as soon as you are committed to taking part
Regardless of how many sign ups we receive in total, we will only go with as many pairs as is possible to create based on artist/writer ratio and your pairing preferences, for example: 7 fanartists = we can sign up to 7 writers
We will likely have some backup writers, who will be expected to fill in, in case of any emergency drop-outs.
It is entirely possible that some overeager organisers might go canvassing during the signup times…
As always, please let us know and give us a shout if you have any questions!
Please reblog, to see if we can find more folks to join us!
I haven't been here for a bit, because things have been hectic. I guess a bit of news from me is that I have now officially graduated with a 2:1 in English & Creative Writing :)
I call upon the fan fic writing gods to bless you with the perseverance to finish one of your unfinished drafts.
May your fingers dance along the letters upon your device with ease, may the devil of distraction stay far from you, and may your work not need much editing.
I pass this blessing upon every fan fic writer out there.
Would anyone be interested in looking over the first part (about 3k) of a new fic I'm working on? I'm feeling pretty self conscious about my writing at the minute.
We are only playing Sat - Sun, so please come back on Tumblr to check it often. (From now on until Sun/Mon midnight whatever time you’re on)
RULES ARE THE SAME BUT THERE’S NO TOP WORD LIMIT THIS TIME - PLEASE READ UNDER THE CUT:
STEP 1: Pick one of the following prompts:
“Talk to me.”
A boy with a guitair
jiāoqiǎnyánshēn // 交浅言深 (chinese, v.) - to have a deep and intimate conversation with a stranger
Dibs!
“You never treated me like a weapon.”
Florentines
"Wake up. Before they get you too."
Gentle, healing hands, over the place where he once ripped you open.
“Dude - we talked about this!”
Horoscope
Step 2: Write a quick response of at least 100 words (a classic drabble is 100 words, but we’re making concessions).
We won’t be counting, but the challenge here is to be concise, while having a clear link to the prompt you’re responding to. There is no upper limit, but remember the prompts get snatched pretty quick.
Fili/Kili or any fictional Dean/Aidan pairings, clearly mark your warnings etc.
Existing verses or brand new work are both fine.
Step 3: Refresh Tumblr and use the notes to check the last person that has reblogged this post with a response (IMPORTANT!)
You MUST go into the details of notes, because otherwise it won’t show you all responses. Click on this to unroll the details:
Just ordinary reblogs to spread the word are ok (ignore those), but you’re looking specifically for the latest reblog that had a drabble added.
Step 4: Reblog from that person, adding your response. You also need to copy-paste the prompt list and REPLACE the one prompt you responded to with a brand new prompt (anything you like).
I.e. you claim one and you put one back. There are still 10 prompts.
Step 5: Format your post. Response text and updated prompts list MUST be hidden under the ‘Read more’ button.
Only 2 lines should be visible on the dashboard: 1) which prompt you’re claiming, pairing, rating, verse, possible warnings and 2) ‘Read more’.
Step 6: Tag your response: #Drabble Challenge 5 so that whoever wants to, can blacklist the whole event.
Next person:
Step 1: Find the latest reblog of this post with a response.
Step 2: Pick one of the prompts from the updated list (always find the latest reblog!)
Repeat Step 3, Step 4, Step 5, Step 6 etc. The list of prompts is forever evolving.
This event is meant to be snappy and fast, creating a caterpillar of reblogs, crawling all over your dashes.
How to resolve possible problems:
Two people writing responses at the same time for 2 different prompts from the same list. This is not a problem: So long as the second person responding finds the latest reblog, their prompt should still be available on the updated list. Only 1 prompt is replaced at a time.
Two people writing responses at the same time for the same prompt (AKA my prompt disappeared by now): Find the latest reblog, add your response and add your own prompt as number 11. From now on there are 11 prompts. However, this is meant to be snappy, so please don’t spend half a day writing 100 words…
Meanwhile, Linane-art will kick-start this, and provide the first example.
Have fun! Any questions - give us a shout. If it starts going wrong, there may be a mod reblog, setting it straight again.
Kili woke up with a start, because his chin slipped from where it was propped up on the heel of his palm. He managed to stop his forehead hitting the table surface, but it was a near thing. He blinked, looking around to see if anybody saw him.
Fili most certainly did. He was standing right in front of him with an expression of a playful lion cub, watching his prey with interest.
“I…” Kili started.
A notebook was placed before Kili and a pen put into his hand.
“Write a line; it will protect you.” Fili whispered, as if he was sharing some ancient secret, face completely serious.
No context, no nothing.
I’m so tired, but I love you, you bizarre man, Kili obediently wrote.
Fili read it, flashed him a delighted smile and kissed his forehead. “Well done,” he praised. “Now up –“
Gentle hands helped him to their bedroom, out of his clothes and under the covers, as if the line truly did exude its magic.
It was hardly the first time something like this had happened: Fili’s diary periodically appeared in front of Kili, with no explanation, only a stubborn, silent Look. It was as if Fili was saying talk to me, as if he needed Kili to write himself into his narrative.
And sometimes Kili read the last half a page or so of Fili’s thoughts and tried to comment as best as he could.
Sometimes, he de-railed the whole narrative:
Hey, did you know that there is one species of jellyfish that is literally immortal?
Once, lost for something to say, he wrote:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Honey is sweet,
And so are you.
He even threw in a couple of cheesy hearts around his poem for good measure.
Fili snorted, then started openly laughing, until finally it turned into cute, incredulous giggles.
Kili silently congratulated himself, got up and kissed his partner right on those giggles, in perhaps the best line he could have offered.
---
Fili reluctantly untangled himself from his warm and comfortable cocoon, which was easy, compared to extricating himself from the tangle of limbs posessively wrapped around him.
Kili was a cuddler and Fili liked it that way.
His One stirred, opened one eye and said: “ugh.”
Fili agreed wholeheartedly. He didn’t like being up at 4:30 a.m. any more than the next person, but the coffee van opened at 5:00 a.m. and Fili valued having his own source of income enough to be prepared to make sacrifices.
Kili disagreed every such morning, but luckily, he was hardly coherent enough to offer any real resistance.
Fili kissed the top of his messy head and tucked him in for good measure.
Hair braided haphazardly away from his face, teeth brushed and he was outside. It was utterly quiet and dark still, but the air was already taking on that bleary, gray quality of early autumn mornings.
He managed to unpack the shop, put out the chalkboards, and get the generator going, before his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Fili smiled to himself. “Fili’s Amazeballs Hot Beverage Stand, what’s your pleasure?” he asked without checking the caller.
“Talk to me,” came an incredibly groggy demand.
“You should be asleep,” Fili started the cleaning cycle and switched to the ear-clip, so he could go hands free. “No point in both of us suffering.”
“Mmmmh.”
“What about?” he picked up, checking the water pressure and starting to unpack the milk delivery.
“Just…” there was a sound of shuffling and a huff. “Just talk, Fee.” A pause. “I just want to hear your voice.”
Fili stopped arranging the napkins and felt something warm blossom in his chest.
“Well, I have a gentleman here, one of the brave ones, considering what he should have. Hazelnut expresso, would be my recommendation, because you need the big guns for this ungodly hour.”
“Not your mouthpiece,” came a muffled protest that was more petulance than any real objection.
Fili allowed himself a private smile and got started on packing the ground beans. Then, he changed tactics. “Hey, remember that lake in Serbia? Those little goats?”
“Mmmf,” came a much more approving huff.
It didn’t happen every single morning when Kili found himself deprived, but it happened regularly enough to be something of a tradition – it kept Fili warm through those inhospitable and desaturated hours, when he leaned against the counter with his hands wrapped protectively around his own extra creamy flat white (no sugar) and told tales of adventures past and those yet to be had.
---
Laundry day
A boy with a guitair
jiāoqiǎnyánshēn // 交浅言深 (chinese, v.) - to have a deep and intimate conversation with a stranger
Dibs!
“You never treated me like a weapon.”
Florentines
"Wake up. Before they get you too."
Gentle, healing hands, over the place where he once ripped you open.
“Dibs!” Kili called out, before Fili had even seen the sweets on the table. His favorite sweets, nonetheless.
“Seriously Kili? We aren’t twelve anymore. And you can’t honestly expect to eat all of those by yourself! Let’s just share them, like good brothers should...” Fili made his way to the table - but Kili was faster. He grabbed the whole bowl, sent nothing but an outstretched tongue Fili’s way, and ran out of the kitchen like the hounds of hell were after him, completely ignoring the rest of the gathered family. Fili was just about to follow after, a quick race and a playful tumble sounding just right when a cough behind him stopped him in his tracks.
Right. Uncle Thorin wanted to talk. As he so often wanted, whenever they came home. Probably why mom had made Fili’s favorite sweets, too. Fili loved his uncle, but he hated these talks. Responsibilities, expectations, everything Fili was supposed to be and had no interest in.
Fili turned around, his best smile hiding the grimace underneath. Damn Kili for leaving him alone with this - and without the sweets to distract him too.
And damn himself for not just running right after Kili as if he hadn’t heard his uncle.
-
Kili sneaked into Fili’s room at midnight, just minutes after Uncle Thorin finally let Fili go. The nerve. Fili really didn’t have the mind for any more talking, for anything but sleeping and hoping they could escape early enough tomorrow to evade another hours long “talk”. Why couldn’t Thorin just accept that Fili wouldn’t follow in his footsteps? Had dreams of his own.
But Kili didn’t talk, just sat on the bed and held out the bowl he snatched.
The full bowl.
Fili looked up at him questioningly, but Kili’s face was hidden in shadows.
“I thought I could get you out, but as that didn’t work I figured you could use a pick me up? Thorin wouldn’t have let you eat any while you talked anyway.”
At least not without a scathing comment about Fili’s attention span and lack of discipline, that was true. Never when ma was around of course, but after…
Fili grabbed one and let it melt in his mouth, the taste and sweetness doing their part to wash the stress away, his muscles finally relaxing. They tasted divine, as always. Mom really knew him well. As did Kili.
“Dibs.” Kili said again, knocking on the mattress. Fili scooted over, making room for his little brother. Despite being taller by now, Kili had never stopped wanting to be the little spoon.
“I don’t think that’s how dibs work,” Fili mused between sweets, the closeness doing the rest to finally leave the day behind.
“It does between good brothers.” Kili laughed, and happily munched on a sweet of his own.
---
Laundry day
A boy with a guitair
jiāoqiǎnyánshēn // 交浅言深 (chinese, v.) - to have a deep and intimate conversation with a stranger
Sunlight
“You never treated me like a weapon.”
Florentines
"Wake up. Before they get you too."
Gentle, healing hands, over the place where he once ripped you open.
3. jiāoqiǎnyánshēn // 交浅言深 (chinese, v.) - to have a deep and intimate conversation with a stranger (FiKi, Gen)
Fíli slumps into the empty space on the bench, against the arm, leaving enough room for a person between he and the man who was already there. The weight and warmth of his drink anchors him while the rest of him feels like a balloon. He isn’t sure whether he’ll pop first or float away. One sip and he winces; too much sugar and milk, a note of something nutty that he doesn’t remember the barista mentioning. It’s thick and creamy and sweet, a cavity-filled promise that leaves a strange film in his mouth after he swallows.
Two sips and he places it on the ground between his feet to throw out later.
He peeks at the man on the other end of the bench from the corner of his eye. The man has his head tipped back, face to the sky, enjoying the midmorning sun. He’s a palette of dark and bold and rich, brown hair piled on his crown in a burgundy silk scrunchie. Like everyone, he’s bundled up against the autumn bite, scarf and mittens and warm coat. A small smile graces a generous-looking mouth. A brown eye winks at Fíli.
Fíli feels his face heat at having been caught. Clears his throat and whips his attention to the park ahead. There’s nothing to see, no one to watch except joggers and mothers with small children parading to and from the swingset.
“You alright?” The man asks in a voice like honeyed whiskey. “Waiting for someone?”
Laughter bubbles out of Fíli before he can cork it, bitter and loud, bridging hysterical after a second.
“No.” He says, wiping a finger under his eye, “God, no. No one’s coming to see me.” And he doesn’t know why he said it except that perhaps hearing him say it aloud helps make the truth easier to bear. Which is horseshit, it absolutely doesn’t.
The man turns his head to face Fíli fully, sits up straight, perches himself at the edge of the bench and waits for Fíli to continue. When Fíli doesn’t, he says, “Well, they don’t deserve your time, anyway.” Not the socially accepted ‘it’ll be alright’ or ‘you want to talk about it’ Fíli was expecting. More welcome and appreciated, that’s for sure.
They sit silently for a few minutes, Fíli stopping and starting, making odd, choked noises as he slices his words in half with his teeth before they can escape. The man leans back into his seat, folds one leg up, ankle on the opposite knee, and spreads an arm across the back of the bench, casual as you please.
“I’ve left my family.” Fíli blurts after a mother drags her screaming toddler past them. “Or they left me first, I’m not sure.” He hangs his head, knees on his elbows, sighs and squeezes his eyes shut.
The man looks at Fíli with an intensity Fíli can feel prickling under his skin.
“They must’ve been horrible.” The man says.
Fíli chuckles, dry and humorless, “They were.”
More silence and then, “Why do you assume they were awful and not me?”
The man rolls his head to the side to give Fíli a deadpan stare, “You sat down with a coffee that smells like a carnival. Dickheads don’t buy carnival coffee.”
Fíli raised an eyebrow, “I don’t even like it.”
“You gave it a try. You didn’t spit it out, you didn’t get annoyed. You can tell a lot about a person by watching how they react to Starbucks.”
“Really?” Fíli asks, light, a grin trickling across his face.
“Really.”
*
They sat until the sky greyed and began to sprinkle, laughing and listening and learning. The man – Kíli, he introduced himself as – offered morsels of wisdom when Fíli confessed to his uncle disowning him, a threat his uncle saw through when Fíli signed over his share of the company to their cousin and waltzed out of the boardroom.
Kíli was bright and kind and very cheeky and had a lot to say about coffee and family and happiness.
Ducked under a shop awning to wait out the worst of the downpour that washed through, Kíli suggested they continue their discussion the next day, at a place he knew that didn’t serve seventeen different blends of coffee nor confused their patrons with orders in Shakespearean verse.
-
Laundry day
A boy with a guitair
holds softly from behind
Sunlight
“You never treated me like a weapon.”
Florentines
"Wake up. Before they get you too."
Gentle, healing hands, over the place where he once ripped you open.
Kíli was pulling a load from the dryer when it dawned on him. A slow, creeping sensation, a flush across his scalp and down his neck, running like a cracked egg. Between shoving a fistful of his underwear into the basket and reaching for a sweater – in a color he never wore, of fabric worth more than his rent – Kíli realized he loved Fíli. A lot. Probably more than that.
He brought the sweater up, rubbing the cashmere soft material between his fingers and thumb, pressed it against his face and nuzzled into it. It no longer smelt like Fíli, obviously, but Kíli could pretend. Without thinking, Kíli yanked his hoodie off and replaced it with Fíli’s more fashionable sweater. Still warm from the dryer, it sat across his shoulders and back like a hug and he could easily imagine Fíli draped over him from behind.
Fíli. Who he loved.
He was champagne-giddy with the thought, a dopey smile bisecting his face. His didn’t beat harder or faster, his breath didn’t quicken, his stomach didn’t swoop. Kíli felt more at peace in that moment than he’d ever felt before, as if everything just slotted into place and the universe made more sense; an epiphany pieced together in clean laundry.
Kíli’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he fumbled to answer. His smile softened when he saw who it was.
“Hey beautiful,” Fíli greeted after Kíli answered, “Do you fancy Indian or burgers?”
“You’re coming over?”
Fíli laughed, a sound that made Kíli’s cheeks hurt.
“I’m considering it.” Fíli teased.
“Good.” Kíli said because, “I have something for you when you get here.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“A surprise, so don’t even try.”
Fíli acquiesced, Kíli opted for pizza since he was craving Dominos and Italian seemed like the right thing to have to underscore declarations of love. When Kíli hung up, he wrapped his arms around himself, around the sweater, and grinned so hard he brought tears to his own eyes.
He loved Fíli, who left his clothes at Kíli’s to be washed, who brought Kíli supper in the middle of the week, who laughed like a song. And Kíli was going to tell him.
-
Horns
A boy with a guitair
holds softly from behind
Sunlight
“You never treated me like a weapon.”
Florentines
"Wake up. Before they get you too."
Gentle, healing hands, over the place where he once ripped you open.
8. Gentle, healing hands, over the place where he once ripped you open. (FiKi, Gen)
He leaned back, sunk into a broad chest and strong arms, a shelter of dense, capable muscle and flesh. The water lapped his chest, its heat leeching the worst of the day’s pain from his bones. A hum rumbled down his spine, across his shoulders, like the sweep of a firm caress, reminded him where he belonged, who he was with.
“I’m sorry, Kee.” Fili whispered, lips barely brushing the shell of Kili’s ear.
One of Fili’s arms curled under Kili’s and lay across Kili’s chest. Fili’s hand rested over Kili’s heart, fingers splayed.
“Why?” Kili asked, voice low.
“Had I known he’d be bold enough to show up like that—”
Kili quieted Fili with twist of his head and a gentle kiss to Fili’s scruffy chin. When he pulled away, he gave Fili his best smile even though his tightening the puckered skin under his eyes uncomfortably.
Fili looked heartbroken, lifted his free hand from the water, where it had been resting on Kili’s hip, to hold the curve of Kili’s jaw. The touch was delicate, as if Kili would break apart from anything harder.
“There’s nothing either of us could have done, Fee. He does as he pleases.”
Fili’s face darkened like tarnished gold. He pressed harder into Kili’s heart.
“He has no right, after what he put you through.”
“And you.” Kili reminded Fili, tucking his head into the curve of Fili’s neck.
Their uncle, Kili understood, wasn’t entirely himself anymore. That he’d used them so cruelly as pawns, as bait, to get what he wanted made bile rise in Kili’s throat. Their uncle was sick, and while they were loyal, they weren’t willing to betray themselves by trying to please a man who’d nearly seen them killed.
Kili lifted a hand, laid it over Fili’s on his chest and laced their fingers, squeezing once before relaxing entirely with his whole body.
2. A boy with a guitar (FiKi, Gen, Modern AU, pre-slash)
If someone asked Fili what loved looked like to him, he would have had a simple answer: a boy with a guitar.
Not just any boy, and not just any guitar. No, it was reserved for one boy in particular. He played every Wednesday at the gates of Finsbury Park, perched on a threadbare cushion, a neon green plectrum plucking at the strings of an acoustic guitar littered with stickers.
Come rain or sunshine, the boy was there at noon when Fili made his way home from his weekly lecture on Wednesday.
He’d take requests from anyone who passed, singing at the top of his lungs, sometimes not always in tune. But he smiled and the people around him smiled, and he always ended up with a guitar case full of coins.
It wasn’t that Fili was in love with the strange boy. Nothing so fairy tale.
It was that he stood for everything Fili associated with love.
Familiarity, dependency, because walking past the boy every week had become something he could count on.
Joy, because the sound of someone who so thoroughly enjoyed singing and entertaining never failed to bring a smile to Fili’s face and put a spring in his step.
But most of all the boy made Fili yearn. To speak to him, to find out his name, to learn his story and understand what brought him to the same spot week after week. To do anything other than drop a few pound coins in his case—money that he could scarce afford to give so freely as a student.
But love was patience as much as courage, and the boy would be there until Fili found the nerve to speak.
And when he found that strength, maybe his definition of love would change.
Yay! So happy you're done with exams and you've got speedy internet again! And always glad to see what you put up here! ESPECIALLY your writings! * pleased shiver * And so excited to see a chapter for dark! Fili up!!! That 'verse is so different and intriguing! I am such a soft marshmallow but there's just SOMETHING about this world - I dunno - we likes it, Precious, we likes it! Can't wait to read it ( saving it to read in bed ) Thank you, and hope you have a happy day!
Thank you, anonymous friend! I’m also glad for both of these things, it’s nice to be back! I’m glad you’re enjoying my serial killer!Fili ‘verse! I’ve had that part written for a while, and it’s a little bit softer than the previous parts, so I hope you enjoy it.
Sorry for the delayed response, your message made me laugh so I’ve kept it in my inbox for a day or so just to cheer me up :D
The Definition of Love [AO3]
Part 3 of the Prison of Blood ‘verse
(Serial Killer AU)
When the call came, Fili had been on his way to work.
He listened, expressionless, emotionless, to what the stranger on the other end of the phone told him. “I see,” he said, eventually.
There was a pause. “Mr. Oakenshield?”
Right. That wasn’t how normal people reacted to such news. “I… I apologise. I’m feeling a bit… shocked. I’ll be there shortly.”
Fili hung up the phone before the caller could say anything else, redialling another number completely from memory. Thankfully, the universe seemed to be on his side and instead of reaching a colleague, he instead heard the click of an answering machine.
“It’s Fili Oakenshield. I’m afraid I won’t make it into the office today, my partner has been in an accident. I’m on my way to the hospital.”
The words were so clinical, but right now that was all that holding him together. Most emotions were foreign to Fili, but this one he knew all too well.
Rage.
Yet that rage would serve no purpose when Fili had no release, and would be unlikely to obtain a release any time soon. For now, he had to push it aside.
*
He made it to the hospital in record time. Probably broke a few speeding laws on the way there, and probably didn’t have enough change for the extortionate parking fees, but all of that was irrelevant.
The only thing relevant was Kili.
Fili pushed his way to the front of the queue and locked eyes with the receptionist. “Kili Durin.”
He watched her eyes flicker to the grumbling people behind him and opened her mouth. His eyes narrowed, and Fili felt no small sense of satisfaction as she seemed to think better of what she was about to say and turned her attention to her computer.
“Ward 5C, room 3. Follow the overhead signs.”
Fili gave her a brusque nod and stalked away. His hands curled into fists and he shoved them into his pockets, trying to rein in a fury that threatened to tear him apart.
*
If Fili could feel grief, he might have wept at the sight of Kili’s unconscious form.
But he could not. All he felt was his control rapidly spiralling, and he hated every second of it. It was all because of Kili. Before he’d entered into this… domestic arrangement, before the convenient alibi had become something more, weakness had never been a word Fili applied to himself.
Now, he was weak. He was weak because the rage he’d kept a lid on for his whole life was at risk of spilling out, and it was all because of Kili.
It was all because Fili had taken a jagged knife and carved out the chasm where his heart should be, and Kili had filled that void with a love that had contaminated the rest of him. What once was clinical and composed, was now anything but.
His train of thought was lost as Kili stirred, his eyes cracking open. The brown pools were a stark contrast to the pallid skin, almost entirely devoid of colour. “You came.”
Fili glared at him. “Obviously,” he ground out. “What happened?”
“Accident,” Kili’s voice was feeble, tired. “There was a car, it mounted the pavement.”
An accident. A simple accident had almost cleaved Kili from his life. Fili took a huge breath and let it out in shuddering increments. Someone would pay for this.
“No,” Kili said, a little more firmly. “I can hear you plotting from here. Fee, it was an accident. Please.”
Fili wasn’t going to make any such promise, but Kili was hurt and not in a position to argue. He clenched his jaw. “We’ll talk about it when you’re home,” he relented. That was the only concession he could make right now.
Kili’s hand reached out slowly, fingers turned up in invitation. Fili took it without hesitation, and felt some of his anger dissipate at the warmth of Kili’s skin.
“You’re mad,” Kili said.
Fili stared at Kili, wondering if perhaps there was some additional brain damage the nurse had neglected to inform him of. He wondered if maybe Kili had missed the obvious way he had invaded every aspect of Fili’s life. That by accepting him, he had become part of Fili’s ritual as well as part of his life. And the universe had dared try to take Kili from him.
“I think I have a reason to be. You were almost killed.”
“Careful,” Kili slurred. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in love with me.”
Fili’s hand twitched in Kili’s, and for an instant he thought about withdrawing, considered turning away. For the very first time, he felt what might have been construed as shame. Shame that he couldn’t love Kili as he deserved. That anyone else would be distraught right now, but Fili’s primary emotion was fury.
A thousand different responses ran through his head, but he settled on one. “You should leave me, you know. Find someone who can give you what you deserve.”
Even with his eyes half-closed, almost delirious with pain, his face almost as white as the pillow beneath him, Kili managed a brilliant smile.
“Did your morphine kick in?” Fili asked, dryly. “Or are you just relishing the thought of getting away from me?”
Kili hummed, sleepily. “The morphine. But you do love me.”
“You know that… you know I don’t. I can’t,” Fili hissed, and the hand that wasn’t entwined with Kili’s clenched tightly. “I told you, I do feel a… a bond towards you. I like being around you. It tempers me. You make every day a little less unbearable. But that’s all.”
Kili didn’t reply immediately, and Fili wondered if he’d fallen asleep. “You stupid man,” Kili breathed, as the morphine overtook him. “That’s what love is.”
*
Neither of them brought up Kili’s words again while he remained in the hospital.
But Fili thought of nothing else. Every night when he lay alone in a bed that suddenly seemed much too cold, much too large, he reflected on Kili’s words.
Was that truly how it was, to love someone? Fili didn’t think so. He’d never been able to fathom it as a concept. From birth, he should have unconditionally loved his mother, his father. He had not. He had looked at them and felt nothing but appreciation for their convenience.
So how could it be that Kili was so convinced that what Fili felt for him could be love?
The thoughts consumed him, and it was only when Kili returned to their home that Fili found the answer.
“Tell me you love me,” he demanded, kneeling at Kili’s feet and laying a possessive hand across his knee.
Kili smiled softly. “I love you,” he replied.
“I like hearing that,” Fili confessed. “It thrills me. I can’t understand the way you feel, but I know that it excites me, as if I possess you. That part of you has surrendered to me willingly, and accepts me for what I am. Each time you say those words, it’s a reminder of that satisfaction.”
Kili nods, curiously. “I think I understand.”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. That what we have, what I feel for you, is love. I think that out of the two of us, you’re the best person to make that judgement.” Fili trails off, trying to gather the words to explain what he’d come to realise.
“I can’t say if you’re right, Kee. I don’t know if you are. But I know that your place in my life is both irrevocable and irreplaceable, and you deserve to know that. You deserve to hear it. So if that is what you believe love to be, then I love you.”
Kili leaned down and kissed him.
When they finally broke apart, Fili’s hand came up to grasp Kili’s chin, fingers tight as he gazed into Kili’s eyes. “You know that means I’ll kill you if you ever leave me.”
Kili shuddered, and Fili got the distinct impression that was less of a threat than he’d intended it to be. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Then Kili kissed him again, and any further threats Fili might have made were forgotten.
Taking a brief writing hiatus, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be posting! Now my exams are over and my internet has been restored to its maximum speed, I can finally start posting the drafts I’ve been sitting on since before Christmas!
The following ficlet was written by @fikidurin based on this photoset.
Pairing: Fili/Kili
Rating: G
Tags: Major Character Injury, minor angst, happy ending
(Also, I highly recommend watching the video I used as inspiration for Fili’s skate, it will be embedded on AO3)
You can also read this story on AO3.
If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)
Don’t Stop The Music
—
2014
Fili leaves the ice, panting heavily and exhilarated. He can still hear the cheers and applause, fancied that he can hear his mother and uncle the loudest of all, though truth be told he can’t distinguish any scream from the next.
This isn’t the first time he’s skated for an audience, although it’s the first time he’s competed in a competition as an adult.
His navy sweater is covered in shavings of ice, and he’s shivering, but not from the cold. His throat feels parched, but he’s too busy getting his breath back to seek out a drink.
“Here,” someone hails him, pressing a bottle of water into his hand. It should be his coach, waiting for him here, but Fili’s fairly sure his coach is trying to get him six sponsorship deals before the end of the day, and a little thing like dealing with post-skate adrenaline isn’t going to stand in his way.
“Thanks,” he replies, taking a long swig and almost spitting the water straight back out when he sees who he’s talking to. “Holy shit, you’re Kili Durin.”
I promise I’m going to catch up on reading these tonight! But I just wanted to reblog this quickly and encourage everyone who reads this to watch Stephane Lambiel’s skate embedded at the bottom of the AO3 page to see Fili’s final skate.
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