dude. bro. nobody appreciates stephen fry like you do, and i have to thank you for that. like??? he’s so talented and i’ve never heard anybody talk about him and it’s really upsetting!! but then i found your blog and was like “they’re still out there. the love of stephen fry is strong. we are here”
i don’t know if this counts as a comfort item but this is peggy, she’s horrible but i love her and as dead as she may look in this picture she’s the most amazing pet i’ll ever have
I love pets that look dead lmao. I have a 16 year old dog who has looked dead for 4 years but she is still alive surprsingly lmao. Ms peggy looks cute!
This is it! What I’ve spent like, a month(?) writing! This is a series that’ll be maybe 5 parts? I’m not sure yet. It’s based on headcannons by @scrabblesense that can be found here.
Genres: Romance (it’s only my third time writing romance and first time actually establishing a relationship so bare with me) angst, hurt/comfort
Tag list: @adaydreaminganon @psycho-b1tch @goshdarnitthatsalongname @indecipherably-insane @coololdsoulpoetlove @brookethefryingpansexual146 @letsteenagetrashstudent @spilledkauffie
Masterlist
The moon blazed bright, illuminating the cold night. It reflected off the steel bars and hit the words on the strong door: ‘Nightline Brothers’ Travelling Carnival of Freaks, Mystery and Tricks!’ Crowds gathered around, hollering and jeering at the frightened creature inside the trailer.
It looked like a man, with massive grey wings poking over their shoulders. Cocoa coloured curls fell in matted clumps over soft, pain filled eyes. They shivered violently and a few star-specked feathers fell to the floor. “Ladies and gentlemen! Behold, our very own angel fallen from God himself, the The Freak of the Skies!” ropes fastened around the creature’s wings yanked them open harshly, it let out an unearthly scream that made your flesh rise and your bones melt into your shoes. There was a loud crack and the creature howled in agony and one of his wings hung on a funny angle. The crowd cheered and cried out encouragement. Your stomach turned violently and bile rose in your throat before it snaked its way back down. Absentmindedly you touched the faded scars defiling your collarbone.
“STOP!” The jeers stopped. The only sounds where the whistling wind and the creature’s feeble sobs. “How can you do this? How can you hurt such a beautiful creature and sleep at night thinking God approves of what you do?”
“Run back to your brothel whore.” One of the men cried out.
“Miss this creature was struck down from God, he was cast out to live in humiliation.” Spoke the ringmaster: his loud voice resonated through the night, shaking the stars where they shone. He turned once more to the onslaught of people before him, “and live in humiliation he shall!” They cheers seemed less enthusiastic this time; a few people looked uncomfortable, but unwilling to say anything. The creature looked at you with sorrowful brown eyes that made your heart splinter.
“I will buy him! Name your price.”
He laughed, “name my price? You have no idea how to bargain do you? A freak such as this will cost much more than a pretty little thing like you could afford.” You scowled and reached behind your neck to unclasp a golden chain, three gold rings dangled from it. One ring was thinner and had a large ruby in its centre, surrounded by tiny diamonds, the others were plain gold bands.
“This enough?” The ringmaster stared at the jewels, his eyes wide he practically slavered over it, reaching out his bony fingers. Quick as a flash you pulled them back, “free them first.” He scowled and pulled a large ring of keys from his coat pocket, finding the right one he inserted it in the lock and opened the door. The creature huddled in the corner, scarred hands shackled behind it’s back, cuffs rubbing the raw skin. “You poor thing.” He looked up at you with widened eyes, as if he expected you to hurt him.
“Where are the keys for his shackles?”
“The smallest one.” Quickly you unlocked the shackles and, with the creature’s permission, slipped an arm around him to help him stand. Leaning on you heavily, he limped out of the trailer, his wings dragging on the ground behind him. You led him past the stares, until you could no longer hear them. You walked until the screams of the ‘freaks’ could no longer be heard over the rustle of the grass in the cool breeze and the crunch crunch crunch of your feet on gravel.
The moon was dipping low in the sky as you neared your small cottage. Moonshadows painted the stone roof silver and the cluster of trees around the cottage black. The door groaned as it opened to reveal the small cluster of furniture. A small table and a straw mattress. A loft was placed above a large stack of firewood. Your mother sat facing the fire, rocking your baby in his small cradle gently. She turned at the sound of the door opening, stared bug-eyed at the sight before her. Quick steps and she was by your side, questions rapidfire as her gaze flickered to Lafayette. “Mama, this is Lafayette. He needs medical attention, he was part of the freak show.” Lafayette shifted, his good wing trembling as your mother took a step closer, her eyes pierced his own. She took in his ragged appearance, eyeing up the multiple cuts and bruises that littered his skinny frame.
“Well then, you know where the bandages are, go get them.” She turned to Lafayette, her eyes softening, “I will go get you some food.” And with that she marched over to the kitchen, head held high.
You led him to sit on your mattress. “I’m going to boil some water and you can wash yourself, the cuts need to be cleaned before they can be dressed.” He nodded, head hanging as he refused to meet your eyes. You longed to place your arms around his scrawny frame and hold him there, stroke his dark curls until his fears went away. Instead you offered a small smile and stroked the air above his cheek, “I’m not going to hurt you.” Your voice barely rose above a whisper yet it filled every nook and cranny. He nodded stiffly, clearly not believing a word you said. He attempted to move his injured wing, only to whine in pain. “Shh don’t move it, I’m going to make a splint and try put it in a sling. Do you know how long it will take to heal?”
“About a week or so.” His voice was gravely and was quiet, powerful but deeply afraid. “I heal much faster than humans.” You nodded, noticing the bruises around his wrists where those God awful chains had shackled him were already faded to a blotchy yellow. You quickly nodded and hurried to get a washcloth and a tub.
One washed and dried his wings showed to be a soft white, slowly turning grey at the ends. Thick scars marred his back, some old and others just starting to form scabs. There were patches of feathers missing, and his skin was red and lumpy, like it had been burnt many times.
You offered a tub of sticky yellow salve to him before smearing some on your fingers and gently rubbing it on a particularly large gash above his right wing. He tensed as your fingers ghosted over his dark flesh. “Is this okay?”
He turned to meet your eyes for the first time since he’d been chained. “I-I don’t know. Please,” His voice cracked and he hung his head, eyes fixed firmly at the dirt floor. “Just don’t hurt me.” You dropped to you knees in front of him tears pooled in your eyes and you reached for his hand, tenderly grasping his fingers, leaving him room to slip them out if he wished; to your surprise he didn’t.
“I swear on my baby’s life, I will not hurt you. Had I wanted to see you hurt I would have left you in the freak show.” He gave a small nod and started applying the salve to the raw wounds around his wrists and ankles.
Your mother came in with a steaming bowl of bowl of broth full of carrots and chunks of mutton alongside a large chunk of bread smeared lavishly with butter. Lafayette’s eyes widened and his too-small stomach growled in anticipation.
“This is, for me?” He stared at the food in front of him, unwilling to believe it was for him.
“Sit down here dear, yes it’s for you. You need food, you’re far too skinny. When was the last time you were feed at that awful place?” He sat opposite you both, His wings closed together tightly, one in it’s makeshift sling.
“We-we don’t get food much, every few days maybe. The...the children slip us food sometimes.” He ate ravenously, barely stopping to breathe. Usually if someone ate like this in front of your mother, she would scold them for their eating habits; but she only frowned a little, a far away look in her eyes and went to fetch him a cup of water.
“You can sleep in the loft tonight Lafayette” You said as you cleared away his empty bowl, “I’ll bring you some blankets.”
“Thank you.” You turned, and for the first time since you freed him he looked you straight in the eye. “For what you did, I can never thank you enough mistress.” Your throat caught at the word ‘mistress’ and you hurried back to him, near flinging yourself at his feet you latched onto his hands, pressing a soft kiss to his bandaged knuckles.
“I am not your mistress. I bought you because you were suffering, what they did to you was wrong. I-I, please know you are free. You are free to leave whenever you choose.” Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes, “you may come and go, we will not stop you.” Lafayette gently pulled his hands from yours and brushed away a tear with his thumb. Tears streamed down his own beautiful face as he thanked you again and again. Eventually you both composed yourself, and you brought in a thick woolen blanket.
“Goodnight y/n.”
Goodnight Lafayette.” You blew out the remaining candles and the house plunged into darkness.
literally, and hear me out here, Iesin kills Essylt and is so high on adrenaline and crazy that when Talvos is like “what’d you do?” iesin panics and attacks talvos before realizing it.
👀 ohoohoohoohoooooooo
tbh he WOULD if he got the chance, and she didn’t manage to panic him; and if he did, he’d def be way too hopped up to see straight afterwards, way too caught up in the danger and fear and yeah, adrenaline, to know what was around him until he came down enough to see Talvos’ blood on his talons and THEN
