ofdoriath



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  1. Rec *

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    “Derek,” Stiles groans. “You have me. You’ve always had me, you absolute moron, how many physically impossible feats of life-saving heroics do I have to perform before you get it?”

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    31 Jan 2026

  2. Rec *

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    “He can't blame me for the fact that I live in a building full of people united in the singular effort to ogle Hot Fireman as often as humanly possible."

    Laura laughs, loud and echoing in the empty restaurant.

    "Hot firemen can make a girl do crazy things," she agrees, nodding towards her brother's name on the menu. "Derek won't let me date anyone from his company, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the eye candy."

    "Send them my way," Stiles suggests, finally loading up a forkful of pie. "Apparently I'm incompetent enough that I need to be babysat at all times, because it would be cheaper than dispatching a truck every time I try to use a kitchen appliance."

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    22 Jan 2026

  3. Rec *

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    Stiles accidentally ends up magically bound to Derek. It’s super.

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    21 Jan 2026

  4. Rec 2

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    “‘What happened?’ he whispers, looking to Oromë. Were it simply a dimming of the light, fear would not strike so deeply in his heart. Where Treelight had been, he can feel a darkness encroaching, leaving Aman bereft. Everything seems to be waiting, for a fresh wave of light—or an even deeper darkness.”

    In the forests of a newly darkened Aman, Oromë finds Celegorm.

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    19 Jan 2026

  5. Rec 5

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    Not talking to Nelyo meant rummaging through a pile of corpses, faces ruddy white as sea-foam brought by tides of blood, never finding the one he sought. It meant laying low in the dark, waiting for Tyelpë's breaths to ease into the faraway slumber of the Firstborn so he could finally weep. It meant defying Kanafinwë every chance he got because that was the closest he could get to defying the brother he wanted to defy.

    Not talking meant sneaking out of the camp at night, staring at the silent, hostile line of mountains as they creased along the horizon like shattered steel, wishing he could wear them down with his chisel alone. He was going to try it, he really was. Inch by inch, scratch by scratch, he was going to abrade them until they were powerless funeral mounds upon the weeping ground, ensnared by the pointless heroism of it all—

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    In which Curufin deals with his complicated feelings about Maedhros's abdication of kingship.

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    18 Jan 2026