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for-the-ninth · 3 years

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I decided to completely redo the fic I started a year ago bc I realized there were plot holes (due in large part to me just writing aimlessly without an ending in mind), the romance didn't burn slow enough for me, and a lot of the relationships I'd formed in my head weren't showing up well on paper.

I've finally figured out where I wanna go with it and how I wanna bend the universe, but rn my partner is the only one who reads my fic and I can't tell her bc she's genuinely invested in the story and wants it to be a surprise.

So I'm gonna post it here under a cut in case anyone actually wants to read it bc I'm really excited about it and I need to tell someone even if the someone is the void of Tumblr!

My main protagonist is Shielan, a 28 year old Dalish of the Lavellan clan. When her mother died, she left her people to travel the woods alone, and kept in touch via letters and yearly visits.

She grew up with no siblings and no father. Her mother and their Keeper were in love and raised Shielan themselves. Neither would ever divulge to Shielan where her father went or what came of him, only stating that he left before she was born.

While working with the Inquisiton, Shielan discovers that she's been cursed with some form of ancient magic that no one (not even Solas - or so he says) can seem to figure out. She sets off in search of answers and finds a carefully laid trail leading her straight to her father.

As it turns out, her father is part of a race of people who call themselves Blood Summoners, of which he is the first. He was created when Mythal and Anaris (one of the Forgotten Ones) slept together and bore a child, named Ramiel. Anaris then used a combination of magic and his child's blood to create a partner for him, named Elisabeta. When the Evanuris found out about Mythal's child, they killed her, compelling Solas to seal them away behind the Veil. Before being sealed away, Anaris left Ramiel and Elisabeta with a final plea to hunt Fen'Harel down and find a way to tear down the Veil.

Before laying with Mythal, Anaris convinced her to perform an experimental dark magic ritual with him that involved her ingesting his blood. Because of this, Ramiel requires the ingestion of blood both to survive and to use the powers given to him. The ritual also cut any connection he had to the Fade, forcing him and his future children to rely solely on blood for power - all except for Shielan.

Over thousands of years, Ramiel and Elisabeta have discovered that Blood Summoners can only produce children with one another. When Ramiel realized the truth of what his father had done, he no longer wished to release him from the Veil, and became increasingly horrified with the lengths Elisabeta went to in order to produce more Summoners. Much like Shielan, he left for a nomadic life of solitude in the forests of Thedas, taking his father's notes with him.

When he met Shielan's mother, Adelahna, they fell in love and slept together. He was shocked when she ended up pregnant and recommended she terminate it for safety, but she insisted on carrying the fetus to term. When Shielan was born healthy, Ramiel knew that he had to keep it a secret from Elisabeta, who would no doubt use Shielan and her mother as experiments for new methods of procreation. So he left them behind and continued his life in the woods.

Adelahna left letters for him in different spots around Thedas, letting him know how Shielan was growing up. From a young age, she showed the propensity for immense power, and inherited some of her father's attributes - his eyes, superior vision and hearing, quick reflexes and remarkable speed - but experienced no blood cravings. When Adelahna stopped leaving letters, Ramiel knew she had died, and he worried that Shielan would have no one to guide her as she navigated her increasing power. He searched for her for years to no avail. When he heard of Corypheus and the elven foci, he knew it Fen'Harel had awakened and he needed to get to him before Elisabeta did.

He found out Fen'Harel was living among the ranks of the Inquisition, under the direction of none other than his daughter, the only half-elven half-summoner of her kind. He had to find her, and there seemed to be no other way to do it than via ancient blood curse.

So he slicked a blade with his own cursed blood and hired a mercenary to cut her with it, thereby binding their blood and allowing him to locate her, much in the same way maleficarum are hunted by the Chantry. Once he does, he writes a letter asking her to meet with him.

By this point, Solas has become a dear friend if hers, so naturally she tells him if her plans to visit her father. He knows of Ramiel, but had no idea he's Mythal's child, and did not realize he still lived. It dawns on him that Ramiel knows who he is and will tell Shielan, which could not only compromise his plan to tear down the Veil, but would deeply effect their friendship. But Shielan leaves before Solas has a chance to convince her otherwise, so he panics and kidnaps her. He makes a tearful confession, tells her he's always been in love with her and begs her not to abandon him. She sleeps with him (while she's tangled up with Cullen and after he's absorbed the power of Mythal, oops) and the next day he leaves.

Months later, she discovers she's pregnant. She knows Solas is the father (but he doesn't) and so does Cullen, but he agrees to help her raise them anyway because he loves her and knows she's always wanted children.

Shortly after Shielan gives birth, Solas begins losing some of the power and has no idea why. He is distraught and sets out in search of Shielan. When he finds her and sees the child, he knows immediately that he's the father and realizes that the reason he's lost his power is because Mythal left his body to possess the child.

There's no way for him to gain his power back without either killing or risking injury to the child, neither of which he's willing to do. Shielan and Ramiel tell him everything, and he agrees to work alongside them to stop Elisabeta from tearing open the Veil herself and setting Anaris free. He, Shielan, and Cullen raise the child together, and through a lot of hard work on the part of both men, Shielan is able to love both of them freely.

As the child grows up, it's clear that the combination of summoner, elven, and Mythal's bloodlines have made for an incredibly powerful being - possibly the most powerful Thedas has known since the Evanuris walked the earth. Solas, Ramiel, Shielan and Cullen vow to protect and train the child as they grow up.

It's thought that one day, the child will be able to tear down the Veil and find a way to keep the Evanuris in check. But this story will end before the reader gets the chance to find out. 😘

#fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #please read my fic when its done im so excited about it

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jowritesthingss · 3 years

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A Fondness for Rabbits

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Pairing(s): n/a

Rating: Teen (for swearing)

Content Warning(s): rabbits, food/drink, mild(ish) swearing, not!Sasha, eldritch beings, spoilers through late s2 / early s3-ish

Length: 3,538 words

Brief Summary: Jon isn’t particularly keen on the Archive’s new rabbit mascot. (It would help if you read this first! But it isn’t required.)

AO3 link in reblogs bc Tumblr is annoying!

If he could, Jonathan Sims would absolutely be firing one Timothy Stoker right about now.

Unfortunately, it seems that for the moment, the both of them are stuck in some sort of limbo, working down there in the Archives.

Them and that damned rabbit Tim brought in to work.

Jon is certain, absolutely certain, that Tim only brought the thing into the Archives to bother him. It happened all too soon after they had their falling out and discovered that none of them can physically quit; there’s no way that it isn’t a coincidence.

Tim swears up and down that it’s only at the Institute because his flat doesn’t allow animals, and that it’ll be gone as soon as he can find a permanent home for it, but naturally Jon is suspicious—and rightfully so, he thinks. Perhaps Tim isn’t the one who murdered Gertrude, but that doesn’t free him from all suspicions. Jon still doesn’t know why he applied to work at the Magnus Institute. For all he knows, the rabbit could be the next step in some horrid plan of some sort.

Regardless of any possible ulterior motives, Jon knows one thing for certain—he does not want this animal in his Archives. He wants it gone, and he wants it gone yesterday.

He stresses as such to a seemingly uncaring Tim: “The moment you find it a different home, it goes. The moment.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Tim agrees placidly, and Jon huffs at that, satisfied enough for the moment.

Oh, but then Martin comes in, and Jon is tasked with the lovely job of explaining to Martin why Tim’s rabbit is allowed to stay when his stray dog wasn’t. And hell, Jon regrets this already.

He stares into the beady red eyes of the rabbit as it slowly, contemplatively munches hay in a corner of the break room. Well.

There’s nothing to do but avoid the break room from then on, yes?

...No. Unfortunately.

As the last person to leave at night, and the first person to get in to the Archives in the morning, Jon becomes the reluctant caretaker to the ridiculously furry animal that has begun to take over his Archives and win over his assistants.

Tim wheedles him solidly for a day, popping in at random times until Jon finally agrees to feed the rabbit every morning when he arrives and every night before he leaves. And Jon would say no, he really would, if it weren’t for Martin, annoying oaf he is with his big pleading doe eyes and his irritatingly effective pout. Jon feels the silent judgement radiating off of him every time he pops in bearing tea.

Of course, even if he can’t avoid the animal in entirety, Jon still tries to make his trips in to care for the thing as quick as possible.

He times it once out of curiosity and boredom while he waits for his laptop to finish a surprise update—he’s managed to get the whole routine down in under five minutes. Considering the routine consists of giving it hay, getting it a scoop of pellets, tossing it lettuce from the fridge, refilling its water, and tidying the litter box, he feels almost a bit proud.

It’s somewhat relieving, honestly, having something normal to express distaste at in between investigating his coworkers on possible murder charges and fighting weird worm people and stabby hand people and other supernatural stuff. It’s kind of nice, actually.

Jon’s not too sure he likes the way the rabbit looks at him, though. It’s a rabbit—it’s not like it’s all that smart, right? But something about it just seems so...so knowing. So otherworldly.

He’ll get the routine down to three minutes, Jon resolves. Anything to avoid the rabbit’s unblinking gaze.

The rabbit becomes Jon Jr, and Jon (now apparently Jon Sr—which, don’t get him started on that bit) becomes irritated. Well, even more irritated than he generally always is nowadays.

And yet...the rabbit seems to sense that it has been named after Jon, almost. It seems to take particular fascination with him, and he cannot for the life of him figure out why.

Whenever Jon is in the break room, the thing follows him everywhere, demanding pets and snuggles and gently nibbling at the tips of his fingers if he lets them drop low enough. So he goes into the break room less and less, expecting for it to lose interest in him or hopefully forget about or ignore him the few moments he does pop in—but the rabbit seems to become even more fiercely attached.

He knows the creature isn’t like this with the others. The rabbit doesn’t particularly like Sasha—it ignores her most of the time—and it outright bit Elias the one time he chanced in on it. It seems to like Tim and Martin a fair amount, but the moment Jon walks through the doorway it bounds over, refusing to leave his side and even trying to follow him out of the break room on a smattering of occasions.

Staring into those empty, beady red eyes, Jon could swear there is something ancient and eternal and knowing. But Tim refuses to get rid of the thing, and Martin would cry, and Sasha or Elias or probably all of them would corner him and lecture him unnecessarily about being too paranoid yet again.

Although, he could always take it to an animal shelter. The rabbit very literally eats into the Archive’s budget—the thing eats an absurdly large amount of hay. Then Martin keeps buying toys for it instead of getting the office supplies Jon has asked for just about twenty times (“what if he gets bored in there, Jon? did you know rabbits can get depression? I can’t let him get depression!”), and Tim’s determined to fatten it up with copious amounts of fresh fruits and vegetables (“only the best organics for my furred son!”).

He’s certain that he could logic it out—that if he reasoned and fought it, Elias would nod neutrally and let him get rid of it. Elias, for all he is suspect in Gertrude’s murder, seems to be the only one with a modicum of sense left in the place. Surely he’ll be on Jon’s side in this.

But when he casually asks Elias his thoughts on the matter, the man adopts an oddly amused expression and says he has no objection to an animal to emotionally support the Archives team (“especially considering the incident involving Jane Prentiss, Jon, it really might help boost employee morale”).

Jon is fairly certain that this is Elias’ stance only so that he doesn’t have to be held accountable for providing his traumatized employees with actual therapeutic aid, but he doesn’t mention it. Instead he angrily bites his tongue and excuses himself from Elias’ office before he says something stupid.

As he goes back down to the Archives and continues about his day, Jon puzzles through his predicament.

The shelter is still sounding like his best option, his coworkers’ opinions be damned. He’s always the last to leave at night and the first to arrive in the morning...perhaps he could wait until everyone is gone and take it to a shelter? Or maybe he could ask around the other departments to see if anyone needs a pet or—well, or snake food.

Although...some very small part of Jon hesitates at the thought of turning Jon Jr over to Artifact Storage or a snake or anything of the sort.

The rabbit seems almost scarily in tune with his emotions—perhaps more in tune than Jon himself—and it doesn’t seem to mean him any harm. Certainly it hasn’t attacked him with parasitic worms or stabbed him with ridiculously long, sharp fingers yet or anything like that. And, well, what could it even do if it did intend harm? Bite him? Pee on his shoes? Steal his lunch?

...Speaking of lunch, Martin keeps spilling chicken from his wrap on his pants. Jon doesn’t have the heart to tell him that the mayonnaise has also started to escape.

Abruptly, Jon stands up from the couch, throwing away his napkin and shooing the rabbit away with a foot as he wriggles his way out of the door to the break room.

It has to be because they named it after him, Jon concludes. That’s why he’s starting to get attached. That must have been their plan, and dammit, it’s working.

He’ll give Tim an ultimatum, Jon ultimately decides as he goes back to his office. Tim doesn’t have to know what Elias thinks about the situation. And he did promise that the rabbit would go when he found it a home. So either Tim finds the rabbit a home by this Friday, or it goes out to a local shelter.

...The rabbit has a home by Friday: Jon’s.

Jon can pinpoint exactly when it happens.

He works himself into a panic when Basira Hussein quits the police force, and he loses any chance he might’ve had at getting the rest of Gertrude’s tapes. And at this point his panic (and his bad luck streak) really isn’t all that surprising, but something about this one particular panic is bad. Really bad.

It’s late at night, and everyone has gone home (except perhaps Elias; Jon has no idea what Elias’ hours look like). Since there’s no one else there to notice him appearing even more frazzled than usual, Jon chances out of his office and into the break room for a glass of water. It ought help his scratchy throat and his shaking limbs and his buzzing head.

Of course, he’s forgotten about the rabbit entirely.

Upon shoving the door open and flicking on the light switch, Jon nearly jumps out of his skin to see the rather unpleasant reminder of the Archives’ pesky little visitor. It’s sitting directly in front of the door, staring expectantly up at him, almost as if it’s been waiting for him.

Unnerving as ‘Jon Jr’ is, the actual Jon’s exhaustion and want for water outweighs his suspicions in the given moment, so he continues forward, shuffling into the break room and very nearly staggering towards the counter.

Once he’s managed to get a cup down from the cupboard, Jon fills it with trembling hands, dropping it into the sink once and nearly dropping it across the counter once too. He turns around and nearly trips on Jon Jr, sloshing even more water out of his cup.

Despite being rained on, though, the rabbit doesn’t seem all that put out; rather, it follows him over to the break room couch, waiting almost patiently for him to sit down and get situated before it hops up and unceremoniously deposits itself in his lap.

“What?” he manages to sourly mutter at it, but he can’t muster up the energy to shoo the thing off of his lap.

So Jon sits there, in silence, drinking his water and attempting to ignore the rabbit.

His attempt does not go well. A few minutes into the stillness, the rabbit shifts, moving to face Jon. It presses its nose towards his torso, wiggling its way under the hem of Jon’s rumpled collared shirt.

Choking on a particularly large gulp of water, Jon makes a startled noise as the rabbit’s wet nose comes into contact with his bare skin.

Coughing violently, Jon tries to flinch away, falling sideways on the couch. His cup flies out of his hands—thank god it’s one of the plastic ones—and water splatters everywhere.

However, the rabbit doesn’t seem to be deterred by the sudden motion and his attempt to get away. It simply follows him, weaseling its way from his lap up towards his face. Its bright red-eyed stare burns into Jon.

Jon flinches as the thing looms in front of his face, sucking in a desperate breath. Oh, god. There’s no one for him to call out to, no help to be had. Oh, god. Is it truly some sort of—of monster—after all? Is this it? Is he about to die?

The rabbit presses forward...

...and begins to lick his nose.

As Jon lies there, frozen into some sort of terrified shock, a vague part of his mind recalls a memory of the rabbits that his grandmother’s neighbor had kept, all those decades ago. Licking someone is a rabbit’s way of kissing them, and licking someone’s nose...that’s one of the ultimate signs of love, isn’t it?

The rabbit continues to lick his nose—nothing more, nothing less. No biting, no clawing, no attacking. Just licks. Just kisses. Just...love?

Jon’s racing heartbeat slowly begins to calm down. He lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and he allows him to fall back into the couch, relaxing his tense limbs.

The rabbit follows him as he leans into the back of the couch, clambering up onto his chest.

For a moment Jon tenses up again, unsure of what it’s planning to do, but all the rabbit does is settle comfortably onto his chest and resume licking his nose. The weight of the animal on his chest somewhat reminds him of the Admiral, back when he’d lived with his former girlfriend Georgie, and it feels...nice. Calming, almost, soothing and lessening the sheer panic he’s been feeling for the majority of the day.

“You’re not....” Jon’s voice cracks; he inhales a shaky breath before trying again. “You’re not so bad after all, are you?” He licks his lips before he cautiously tries out the rabbit’s name. “...Junior.”

Jon reaches a wobbly hand up towards Jon Jr. He stares intently at the rabbit, waiting for any sign of alarm or ill will. Seeing none, he places his hand hesitantly on Jon Jr’s back. When the animal shows no sign of startling or moving to dislodge his hand, Jon slowly begins to pet him in short, stilted strokes that quickly become more confident as the rabbit kisses his nose more fervently.

“I suppose...I suppose you can stay for...just a bit longer,” Jon murmurs into the rabbit’s warm fur. He cautiously strokes Jon Jr’s cheeks, chancing a small smile when the rabbit closes his eyes in pleasure.

And if he falls asleep there on the break room couch, there with the comforting warmth and weight of the rabbit he’d set out to hate and instead fallen hopelessly in love with—well. Nobody was there in the Archives to see it, now were they?

Too much happens all too fast, in a blur of time and terror. Melanie King limps in on Jon acting much too immature (in his defense, Jon Jr is...difficult to resist when he wants kisses), but the worry over whether she’ll ruin his reputation or not is quickly washed away by the cold terror of realizing that Sasha is not Sasha.

Suddenly there’s an axe in his hand and an oddly swirling tabletop in his sights, and then suddenly Tim and Martin are interrupting him mid-swing, Jon Jr nosing around their ankles.

Then they’re surrounded by splinters of wood and the grotesque, distorted yells of the thing that is not Sasha, the thing that was not ever Sasha, and there’s a yellow door, and a thing with too-many-too-long hands holding out for a deal.

And then they’re running.

Martin gets lost, Jon isn’t entirely sure when—was it back in the twisting halls of Michael’s domain, or down in the twisting tunnels of Smirke’s creation? everything is blurring together at edges tinged with fear—

—and then it’s just him, and Tim, and Jon Jr, and the thing that had been, had been wearing his assistant’s life like some sort of costume, and oh. This is it, isn’t it? They’re about to die, aren’t they.

At least Martin will survive to tell their tale, Jon hopes, feeling a rush of remorse at how abruptly and patronizingly he’s treated his poor assistant. He could’ve been—he could’ve been dead and gone, replaced like Sasha, and Jon never would have known. And now—now Jon is the one about to die. Him and Tim.

God, Tim. He doesn’t particularly like Tim. Tim has been satisfactory enough as an assistant, he supposes—had almost been a friend once, back in their research days—and now....

Now they back into a dead end, practically hugging the wall as not!Sasha slowly approaches them with a look of manic glee on its face. And Jon...he wouldn’t wish this on anyone, regardless of how much he does or doesn’t like them. Certainly he wouldn’t wish this end on Tim...even if a small, selfish part of him is glad that he’s not alone in the end.

It’s just him and Tim. Just like it was back with Prentiss.

Mouth falling slightly open, Jon turns towards the man in question—perhaps to weakly comment as such, he isn’t really sure—only to see Jon Jr leaping out of Tim’s arms.

“Junior!” The word is tugged out of him, unbidden. Dammit, he’s grown attached to the rabbit. And dammit, there are tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as the rabbit obliviously makes his way towards the hungry thing that had pretended to be Sasha. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Only—

Only then, the rabbit isn’t a rabbit.

It happens much too fast for Jon to really get a good glimpse at what their rabbit becomes. But there’s a loud cracking noise, then a monstrous blur of gray and limbs and mouth and teeth, then another crack and then...nothing. Not even not!Sasha remains. Just a smallish white rabbit in the middle of the now-empty tunnel, sitting primly and licking at one paw.

Jon and Tim gape at each other and at the rabbit, but one thing is for certain:

“...We’re keeping the rabbit,” Jon murmurs, light-headed.

“I—yeah.” Tim nods, and he slumps back against the wall and slowly slides down to the floor of the tunnel. A hand reaches out and snags Jon, dragging him down with, and there, leaning against the wall and each other, the two stare at the not-quite-a-rabbit.

“We’re keeping the rabbit.”

The rabbit-but-not-a-rabbit blinks his innocent red eyes up at them before flopping over to rest, and honestly? Jon thinks Junior has rather the right idea there.

And so the rabbit is kept, and Jon and Tim stagger out of the tunnels minus one not!Sasha but still with one not!a rabbit.

Come to think of it, they’re still down one Martin as well, which is admittedly worrisome.

Neither Jon nor Tim is exactly keen to go back in the tunnels so soon after escaping certain death within them. Jon has never been the most athletic of people—he’s an academic, he’s supposed to be sitting behind a desk all day, for christ’s sake—and his legs feel like jelly beneath him as they debate over calling the police.

Tim is of the mind that they should call the police, or at least Basira, whom he stubbornly still refers to as Jon’s “girlfriend” (and Jon is much too tired to dispute that at this point). Jon, on the other hand, doesn’t think even section thirty-one officers would listen to “we went into a door a monster created in a wall and we lost our coworker in a maze of endless passageways.”

Thankfully, it turns out that they needn’t have worried, because Martin turns up not too long after, dizzy and dragging two other people behind him.

One of them is a familiar face—Helen Richardson, whom Martin apparently had picked up while stuck in Michael’s spiralling labyrinth, and who seems quite content to latch onto Martin and sit firmly in one spot in the center of the place, refusing to pass through any doorways whatsoever. But the second person is an unfamiliar face—an aging, gray-haired man who seems impeccably polite, incredibly calm, and increasingly out of place among the dinge of the tunnels and Artifact Storage.

Then the man introduces himself as Jurgen Leitner, and Jon nearly drops Jon Jr.

But Jon is much too tired to deal with that in the moment, so when Martin tentatively suggests a slumber party of sorts in the Archives to ease his, Helen’s, and Leitner’s worries all in one, Jon gives in without the fight he normally would put up.

As the others assemble bedding and piles of pillows and cushions pilfered from the library chairs, Jon manages to snag the break room couch once more for himself...and for Jon Jr.

Jon has absolutely no idea what, exactly, he’s supposed to do now. There are clearly bigger things at play here—or, at least, Leitner seemed to think so, from the little he said before Tim shut him up and sent him to bed—but as he watches Jon Jr nibble on a cucumber peel, Jon feels a bit better, at least, knowing that one of those bigger things might at least be on his side.

(Or, well. Hopefully he can bribe mister “bigger thing” with enough carrots to stay on his side. That is yet to be seen.)

Fin

First || Next

I just have so many stupid ideas for this ridiculous AU that I couldn’t just let them live in my head...so I might as well scrawl them out and let y’all enjoy them with me, right? (Or you can tell me to shut tf up if these get too dumb or annoying for you asdhjkl)

But yeah, as you can tell, Jon Jr’s presence will be messing around with canon, because I take any and all opportunities for fix-its. I just really miss my boy Tim and also my wife Sasha ok so sue me

Want to chat or be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

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likeshipsonthesea · 5 years

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If you're still doing prompts can I ask for 54 and 98 for either Nurseydex or whiskeynurseydex

i am still doing prompts! however, this is the last one for the mash-ups, and I have a bunch of the “straight to the good part” prompts i need to fill, and i have tons of hw to get done and a midterm to study for, so no more prompts for a bit. but thanks to you, and to everyone else, who sent them in. they made me very happy :)

for the au mash-up prompts, 54. Secret Relationship and 98. Curses. for nurseydex bc while i love that someone wants me to write something other than nurseydex, i suck at poly. so here we go!

let’s set the scene; on a warm spring day in late april, a christening was held.

this christening was not your average christening. there was no priest, no water, no religious symbolism as far as the eye could see. the pews (because it was held in a church, but only for size reasons) were not filled with daintily dressed grandmothers and bored nephews tugging at their too-tight ties. no these pews were filled with an arrangement of gorgeous goblins with glittering fingers full of jewels, djins bearing gifts of gold and sirens come out of the water to get a glimpse of the breathtaking nurse child recently borne unto the lovely trio of parents

(nursey’s mother (bio) descends from a long line of magic-adjacents, fortune tellers and psychics and the like. she particularly has charged dreams, one of which predicted the birth of her son, derek, the day before she met the father. nursey’s father (bio, and aro, so platonically in love with his mother) is just really really charming, like there was probably a veela way back in his family line, so now his powers manifest in closing business deals and making people swoon. nursey’s mama (non-bio, but wife of his mother) is a witch, plain and simple, and all the women in her family tracing back to ancient times were witches, too.)

so on the day of this christening, the reason for this christening, was for all the various magical relatives and friends to come and wish good fortune upon this trifecta of a magic child.

there was only one problem.

“he was born on valentine’s day?” nursey’s mama’s mother yells, in a private room within the church, exactly seven minutes before the event will begin.

nursey’s mama winces. “this is why we didn’t want to tell you.” nursey’s mother and father stand just behind her, supportive, but cowering slightly under the ire of such a great witch.

nursey’s grandmama then begins speaking rapid (angry) spanish, many of which are curses (which, incidentally, are some of the few words nursey’s mother and father recognize) and nursey’s mama tries to placate her to no avail.

the reason for this, you see, is because being born on the day of love is a curse unlike no other. centuries and centuries ago there was an etiquette established that magic would not interfere in the ways of love (that, and death, but that’s a story for another time) because love was too sacred. platonic, romantic, familial love, all of it, was a bond stronger than even the most powerful of dark magicks, and it was forbidden to be tampered with.

then the whole valentine fiasco happened and a curse was placed upon the day that all magickal babies born unto it would be cursed with a strife-torn love life.

“how could you let this happen?” nursey’s grandmama finally yells, ending her tirade.

the three parents exchange a look. mama turns back to her mother and winces. “we forgot?”

though all of nursey’s parents are magic in their own way, and believe to an extent the lore of their peoples, the valentine’s day curse seemed like one of those tales magickal parents tell their kids to entertain them at bedtime. what kind of magic would a day full of gross chocolates and plastic presents really hold? valentine’s day was a joke.

but in the afterwards, with their darling son derek asleep in his (secretly runed) hospital crib, they all remembered the date and winced simultaneously at the thought of telling their families. mom’s family took it okay– they had always lived on the fringes of magic, and therefore only took to it partially– and dad’s family is so far away from the truly magickal aspect of their heritage that they merely shrugged it off. they knew mama’s family would not react the same.

and so the christening was held, still, and the gifts were bestowed, but mama’s family– her strong and sturdy mother, the short but fierce grandmother, and the wrinkled and curled great-grandmother with no teeth and a magickal slap that would still knock you out– gave gifts that were pointed.

“you shall find solace in the magickal world,” nursey’s grandmother said, rubbing her thumb to his forehead. “we will love you like no one else.”

“you will have an unparalleled empathy,” his great-grandmother whispers, tickling his toes. “you will love like no other.”

and his great-great-grandmother, weathered and wizened and full of an untapped power, smiles her gummy grin at him and tells him, “despite it all, you will be loved. you will have one great love, my boy, and you will have the fight to keep it. i promise you this.”

and so it was true.

*~*~*

flash-forward to twenty years later.

“fuck off, poindexter,” nursey says, grinning, as he lightly hip-checks dex into the boards. dex rolls his eyes beneath him helmet, but nursey can see the smile tugging at his lips.

“stop fooling around, you two!” bitty yells, from across the ice. “we have a frozen four to prepare for!”

the d-pair exchanges a grin and sets off.

it’s nearing the end of their junior year. it’s been–eventful. living together at that stage did not work (nursey reeling from the loss of hockey, dex recovering from the aftermath of The Kiss, neither of them particularly ready to accommodate another person’s trauma with their own) and dex moving out felt like an ending neither of them wanted but neither of them knew how to fix–or could fix, for a while

and they worked for it– worked for this– when they got back from break. hockey was a good starting point–despite the rest of it, they always worked well on the ice. from there, they learned a language they would tolerate, one without sounds and without the capacity for anger. they worked out together, silent, pushing one another without directly doing so. they would perform their chores without a word, working together, clinical and efficient.

they began to find a rhythm, and with that, their words. dex explained in starts and stops how quiet it got back home after they all knew his captains were in love (and how he was okay with it, probably too okay, will couldn’t be– he wasn’t– right?) and nursey gestured nervously as he explained how hockey had been the one thing he could always come back to, even when the words weren’t coming out right, and how strained his parents had become since mama had flown back to chile to deal with the death of her great-grandmother, leaving mom and dad without their third part

and things got–better, slowly. and they can chirp without malice and kill it on the ice and smile at each other over team breakfast and it’s– it’s good. finally.

“fuck that’s good,” nursey groans, throwing his head back against the wall of dex’s basement hideaway so he doesn’t focus too heavily on the orange head bobbing below because he knows he would come too quickly, then.

okay, maybe it’s more than just “good”

maybe after a few roadies sharing a room, after some late-night tipsy conversations in the reading room, maybe after a stumble-step kiss and too little reservations, they fell into bed together and fit and some other things fell into place, too. whatever. it’s good. it’s–chill.

and in the afterward, after they’ve both gotten off and cuddled for as long as they dare and nursey creaks his way back up to his lonely room, if nursey wishes that they didn’t have to hide, it’s whatever. they both agreed to this. it’s still the best way to handle the tentativeness of this thing between them

not that they don’t love or trust their friends or whatever, it’s just it took them so long to get here to get to a place where they can talk, or at least communicate in their way, when things get hard. they’ve carved out a space for themselves and if anyone else touches it or sees it or–god forbid– judges it, well. they don’t know if they can keep it stable when the world outside tries to shake it.

but then it happens– then the final four comes and they make it, they make it to the last game and it’s gone into overtime and they all want it so badly, for themselves for bitty and then nursey sees the opening and sends it to whiskey who shoots down the ice towards the opposing goal and bits is right there, ready, and nursey can see it happening like a premonition

(sidenote: it actually is a premonition. nursey’s powers manifest in clumsy charm and slightly precognitive powers. it’s great in bed bc he experiences orgasms twice, but we’re not talking about that now)

and bitty tucks it in right behind the goalie’s leg and the buzzer screams and they all shoot into one another in this giant hug of energy and bliss and camaraderie

(and even if nursey didn’t have dex, even if they hadn’t worked it out, he would still have this, still have this unending unquestionable love for his teammates, reciprocated and stronger than any curse could hope to be)

and then nursey sees dex, helmet gone and smile wide, and he pulls nursey in to this tight tight hug and nursey can’t help it. he says it. says, “i love you,” right in dex’s ear, loud enough over the roar of the win, and dex pulls back, smile now down turned but wide, disbelieving, his eyes shining with– fuck.

“i love you too,” dex says, but nursey can only read his lips, and he wants to hear the words, he wants to hear the proof, but that comes later, after the locker room and the parties and the euphoria dies down.

quiet in dex’s basement bed, lying together, mussed and elated;

“you sure?” nursey asks into dex’s chest, not even quite sure if dex is awake or he said it loud enough to hear, or if he wanted dex to hear.

“yes,” dex says, sleepy but resolute. “i love you.”

nursey smiles, and falls asleep with the smile on his face.

*~*~*

that’s all well and good and all, but then they have to deal with The Families. dex’s takes it surprisingly– neutral. they accept nursey and are kind to him, but they stumble over things like room arrangements and call nursey dex’s “friend” enough times to prick at dex’s skin, but they try. “that’s all i can really ask for, you know?” dex says, on an abandoned beach later, just the two of them and the waves, and nursey hears the ‘i wish i could ask for more, i wish they could be better’ but instead of responding to that, he just hugs him close. it’s the answer dex needed, anyway.

the harder part is nursey’s family. they’ve always been hesitant about him dating anyone– they were suspicious of shitty for the longest time but finally realized that he was straighter than straight could be and let their suspicions go– and nursey knows about the curse of his birthday (how couldn’t he, with all the family birthday parties full of sad shakes of heads and pitying looks) but, like his parents, tried to believe it wasn’t true

(and maybe, one day, he’ll see the truth of it, but right now he’s too happy to speculate on things that have gone by)

mama, back now from her hometown, squints at dex all through dinner. she is the most magic of them all, and is attempting to use said magic to read dex for his intentions.

dex chews awkwardly and hopes that he isn’t upsetting any rich people customs he doesn’t know about. nursey, along with his mom and dad, attempt to derail the staring to no avail.

after dinner, after dessert and dex offering to help clean and thoroughly charming nursey’s father, and talking about nerdy science things with nursey’s mom and making her laugh, nursey is pleasantly full of food and love and then is instantly ripped from this feeling by his mama, who pulls him into the hall and hisses, “he’s magic.”

“what? dex isn’t magic.”

mama’s eyes are wider than nursey has ever seen them. he’s appropriately scared. “yes he is,” she insists. “i can smell it on him.”

“what? mama, stop smelling my boyfriend.”

but mama doesn’t let it go, not that night or after college, when he and dex move into an apartment in nyc together, or even later, when dex proposes one sleepy morning in bed and nursey cries and they have great sleepy-sex to the sound of their next door neighbor’s complaintive wall-pounding

the wedding is, unfortunately, a large affair. there are more poindexters than any tree could hold and “if we don’t invite ever last magickal acquaintance we’ll upset the whole community, derek” (said by his mom over a table full of potential invitees who all end up receiving save the dates)

and the wedding is, of course, beautiful, despite all of the craziness, the cake is divine (”i can’t believe that boy doesn’t have any magic,” mama says, shaking her head as she has her third piece of cake) and view (on a beach in maine, less travel for the poorer attendees) is gorgeous, even if dex kind of secretly wanted a winter wedding instead of a summer one (”we’ll go somewhere cold for the honeymoon,” nursey assured him, eyes twinkling, “we’ll be staying inside for the most part, anyway”) and all the magickal guests (glimmered to hide their more, um, unique aspects) enjoy it immensely.

but then nursey’s great grandmother and dex’s great grandmother find each other. the commotion draws the attention of everyone in the wedding party and dex and nursey approach, cautious, wondering if it’s the gay thing or something worse, only to find the two old women embracing and laughing.

“wut.” everyone, literally everyone, says, watching the interaction.

turns out, dex comes from a family with a decent amount of selkie blood in it. he can’t personally become a seal or anything (”what the fuck,” he says, staring at his little grandmother’s wrinkled, leathery, seal body) but he’s better in the water than most and can hold his breath for a really long time (”oh” nursey exclaims, after this is revealed, “that’s why you’re so good at eat-” dex manages to clap a hand over his mouth just in time.)

and since dex’s great grandmother is a selkie, she has relatives that are more involved in the magickal community than she is, and when she was a little girl, got dragged all around the world to christenings and birthdays and what have you.

and who was her childhood companion, the one who entertained her at all of these boring events? yup, you guessed it, nursey’s great grandmother.

“well, this has been a weird day,” dex says, later that night, in the hotel room they got nearby. “you’re magic, i’m magic, and our great-grandmothers were besties.”

“did you just say besties?”

“it’s been a weird day let me have this.”

and despite all the weirdness, they really do have a nice life together. nursey’s great grandmother was right–it’s a constant battle, but what love isn’t? it’s not a draining battle, it makes nursey better, constantly pushes him to be the best version of himself he can be, and the result–being with dex in all the little moments and the big– is so worth all the energy expended in the process.

and maybe it’s the curse. maybe the curse made them this way, but maybe it didn’t. maybe it’s just what they both needed, maybe dex would have been it for him no matter what day he was born. nursey likes to think so, anyway. curses and secrets and whatever– how could there ever be a world where he and dex didn’t end up here?

forget magic, that’s what’s really unbelievable.

#nurseydex #dexnursey #check please #nursey #derek nurse #dex #william poindexter #my writing #sort of fic #ficlet #i'm tagging this ficlet #because damn it basically is #i love this #i really love this #please read it!#i promise you'll enjoy it :)))

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dyketectivecomics · 6 years

Text

Unexpected, pt. 2

(*flings this @ y’all* here, take this pt. 2 bc I'm trash & also had most of it written already??? more magic fam beginnings and probably not the last idk yet)

"-And you're feeding her... pop-tarts?" Zatanna rubbed the sides of her temple in frustration. For the past few years that she had known him, Constantine seemed to have a knack for getting into trouble, and more often than not, she had felt some sense of duty to help him out of it.

Especially now that they had finally agreed to become a more... exclusive item.

But summoning a kid with some kind of next-level demonic connections, in his own home? This was a new one, even for him. And to think she almost chose to move in with him.

The sorceress turned her gaze past her lover, down the hall, to where she could see the girl sitting in his living room. She sat cross-legged in front of John's coffee table, nibbling away at the aforementioned confections while reading through one of the many tomes John had lying around. Zatanna figured most people would deem it an innocent enough scene in and of itself, but there was a very clear presence that she could feel emanating from the girl. It was ancient, powerful, and most of all, evil.

"Well, I couldn't exactly give her whiskey and cigs, could I?"

"Beside the point," she scolded, rolling her eyes at him and lowering her voice as she continued, "You've got a kid, maybe a demon, on your hands with no way to send her back where she belongs- Scratch that, with no idea where she comes from-"

The girl interrupted the sorceress with a single word, and the adults turned to her in confusion.

"What was that, luv?" John asked, turning away from Zatanna and taking the short walk down the hall to hear her better.

"Azarath. That's where I'm from." Damn, the kid's ears were good.

"Fascinating. Never heard of it," John sunk into the couch across from the girl, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Don't suppose you have, Zee?"

Zatanna hung back at the entrance way to the living space. The girl's aura was still very strong. But now that she was closer, Zee felt something else, something familiar. She could only describe it as an anxious calm, like the feeling she'd get in her stomach just before a show. It was something to be prepared for and easily suppressed.

Or what would be easily suppressed. But the feeling wasn't going away.

In fact, Zatanna could only pinpoint one reason why something so trivial would be so hard to push aside. And a few things clicked in that moment.

The first she could be sure of: although this girl clearly had some presence looming within her, she was still a very young girl. Likely with some innocence left regardless of where she had been summoned from. Secondly, though the girl seemed to be above all else nonplussed about the situation, she was clearly suppressing her true feelings. And these were feelings that were being passed along to Zatanna at the moment. Which led to the only logical conclusion: this girl was an empath.

Before she could dwell too much on this discovery, Zee realized she was lingering. Despite every instinct in her body screaming at her to run, she took the seat beside John on the couch and answered his question.

"I might've read about it once somewhere, but it's not ringing any bells."

The girl seemed to ignore them and turned the book around on the table, sliding it across to them. Pointing towards a section about 'the hierarchy of reality', her brow furrowed slightly as she made another statement.

"Your book is a wrong. It doesn't show the twelve planes. And it doesn't talk about pocket dimensions."

John gave Zatanna a look as they turned towards each other. "She's been on about this kind of thing the whole time she's been here."

"Raven, right?" Zee sighed. "Why don't you tell us more about Azarath? Maybe we-"

"I can't go back." -Well, she certainly had a knack for seeing exactly where the conversation was going.- "It's one of the rules."

"Uh-huh, well," Zatanna thought for a moment before settling on the obvious question. "What about your parents, Raven? I'm sure they must miss you terribly."

Raven shut the book with a sharp snap and turned her face away from the sorceress. "No. I don't think they do."

Coughing on the drink he had taken, John pounded his chest as Zatanna gave him a glare. "And what makes you think that, Raven?"

The girl picked at the spine on the book, right where the pages were bound, her eyes focused solely on her fingers. She shrugged after a few seconds of fiddling. "Arella and Azar told me Father can't love. So he probably doesn't miss me. Azar also said love was dangerous. She and Arella would fight over that kind of stuff though, so I don't really know..." She let the thought trail off, pushing the book aside once more and taking a bite out of her last remaining pop-tart. Zatanna could only stare in silence. What was there to really say to something like that?

"I'm glad you pulled me out of the Circle," she turned to Constantine suddenly after finishing her treat. "They were being really boring, and mean."

"Oh anytime, luv."

"You're not going to send me back there, are you?"

"What, back to Hell?" John scowled. "Don't be ridiculous." Zatanna could hear the undercurrent in his tone. 'I've already damned one girl too many,' it said.

"You promise?" She made full eye contact with him then, and Zatanna found herself pulled in by hues her eyes took on, a flash of something in royal purple, before fading back into navy. She probably didn't even realize the level of influence she had.

John shook his head a moment, as if trying not to fall under it, but remained affirmative. "Raven, no one will be sending you off to hell. Least of all me."

Reaching for John's hand, Zee was unsure of the choice before them. So for now, she chose a middle ground. Though she had suspicion enough that it might turn into something else entirely, given time.

"We're more than willing to help you with whatever you need now, Raven," she promised, "But let's start at the beginning. Please, tell us all about Azarath."

#dc bombshells #john constantine #zatanna zatara #magicblazer #rachel roth #raven #teen titans #au: magic foster family #randywritesfic #tagging all the things bc I CAN #zee why aren't u so easy to write for in arkham hmm??? why u gotta play me like thisgirl #its abt 1000 words hope y'all have fun lmao #two in one night can u tell that school's getting to me by now?#its uhhhh kinda open for filling in the gaps later obvsly #still trying to be safe in writing raven as a little kid... its just like??? I'm trying to just remember being that age which seems to be #working ok???? idk feedback's so far has been wonderful thanks y'all plz keep that coming #i might have to compile everything & post it to ao3 eventually too ahhh

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atariince · 6 years

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What actually prompted me to ask you about Finrod is your fic Anathema :) I liked very much his characterization bc he is also imo very complex and enigmatic. Could you elaborate why you find him quite creepy on his first meeting with Bëor’s people?

Oooh, thankyou very much! I’m glad you liked it 😊 As for yourquestion, I think the best thing to do is to look at the texts (it’s going tobe long…)

The Silmarillion, Chapter 17, Of the coming of Men into the west + Later Quenta Silmarillion,The War of the Jewels.

“Then Felagund,standing silent in the night-shadow of the trees, looked down in to the campand he beheld a strange people”

Everything’s cool, except for the “night-shadow” thing which, to me, foreshadows something that is not quite clear.

“[…] Long Felagundwatched them”

I do believe that It must have been very strange andfascinating to discover the Atani. But how long did he watch them exactly? I’dnot feel very comfortable to learn that my friend lurked around and watched “long”before introducing themselves.

“…And lovefor them stirred in his hear”.

I can understand the spiritual/intellectualattraction and the curiosity, so I’m fine with it.

“…But heremained hidden in the trees until they had fallen asleep. Then he went amongthe sleeping people…”

Wait, what?

That’s where it really becomes creepy… although I perfectly understand the fact thathe has to be cautious because the Men could be wary, I just feel very uneasy withthis image of a powerful being hiding in the trees and sneaking into the campwhen everybody’s asleep…

“… and satbeside their dying fire where none kept watch.”

“… and hetook a rude harp which Bëor had laid aside, and he played music upon such asthe ears of Men had not heard; for they had as yet no teachers in the art, saveonly the Dark-Elves in the wild lands”

Let’s try to ignore the contemptuouscomments of the narrator (Pengolodh btw) - yeah because only the Eldar know about arts andculture, and only they can teach what art is to other species…. Does it remindyou of something? - and go on.

“Now Menawoke and listened to Felagund as he harped and sang, and each thought that hewas in some fair dream”.

That’s where we must remember the power of music inTolkien’s world, and Finrod’s mastery (cf. the music fight with Sauron in The Layof Leithian); What sort of device can music be? Does music summon images? Howdoes it affect emotions and sentiments? “each thought he was in some fair dream”implies the idea of an illusion, doesn’t it?

“… until hesaw that his fellow was awake also beside him”

So, the power of music isstrong enough to prevent Men from acknowledging what’s happening around…?

“But theydid not speak or stir while Felagund still played, because of the beauty of themusic and the wonder of the song. Wisdom was in the words of the Elven-king,and the hearts grew wiser that hearkened to him”.

Pretty cool, right?

Yet,wisdom. Which wisdom? Is absolute wisdom a thing? Isn’t it supposed to berelative, related to your culture, environment, experiences, etc.? Hm. Here, weare talking about wisdom according to the Eldar, which ultimately discards the Atani’s wisdom and makes it meaningless, if not something that does not evenexist. /Lol/

“…for the thingsof which he sang, of the making of Arda,”

Which Felagund has never actuallywitnessed…

“…And thebliss of Aman beyond the shadows of the sea, came as clear visions before theireyes.”

I agree about Aman, it makes perfect sense. But how could he give them visionsof the Making if he never witnessed it? Did he get the same visions from theAinur? Or did he make them up? #noidea

“…and hisElvish speech was interpreted in each mind according to its measure.”

Okay,let’s repeat the last part: “according to its measure.” So, if I understandcorrectly, Felagund adapted his song and words and the visions he displayedaccording to what each individual was able to acknowledge. Although it isactually great to adapt your speech to your audience (you don’t speak to scholarsthe way you speak to high-school students), I cannot help wondering about themanipulative aspect of it. If there is no actual manipulation, it still showsthat Finrod would have been able to do it. Not only heis smart enough to realize how/when to do it, but his song is also powerfulenough for it, and he is skilled enough to modulate his songs and to use therequired rhetorical tools.

“…and theyloved him and took him for their lord and were ever after loyal to the House ofFinarfin.”

This sentence appears a conclusion of the passage, as a logical consequenceof the whole thing, as if it were but a natural outcome of the meeting between theMen and the Eldar. But hadn’t it been prepared by the whole narrativedevelopment? Think about it. When Finrod started to sing and revealed himselfto the Men, he had already watched them “long”, meaning that he had probablyunderstood/learned many things about them before he decided to show up. Wasn’tit the plan from the beginning, to make the Men acknowledge him as loremaster,as a teacher, as the voice of wisdom and consequently, as a lord? I do not doubtthat there is a genuine affection regarding Felagund’s relationship to the Men(obviously it is a thing), but I can’t help seeing some sort of purpose behindthe seemingly innocent display of knowledge, grace, beauty… and power.

“[…] Indeed,they believed at first Felagund was one of the Valar [“gods” in the LQS], ofwhom they had heard rumour that dwelt in the West, and this was (some say) thechief cause of their journey”

Although I am certain Finrod never pretended tobe an Ainur, and never even thought about it, there is something quiteambivalent in his first approach to men. What exactly did he expected them tothink of him?

“…ButFelagund dwelt among them and taught them true lore.”

Lol. True lore. TRUTH.Again, like wisdom, I don’t believe there is one universal, absolute truth.Especially in terms of lore. And it irks me to be told about “true lore”, “truewisdom”. QED

“…and Felagund discovered also that he couldread in the minds of Men such thoughts as they wished to reveal in speech sothat their words were easily interpreted”

The sentence is supposed to explainhow they communicate. Hence the emphasis on “as they wished to reveal”. But ifhe can read in their minds so easily, he would probably be able to discoverwhat they don’t want to reveal, wouldn’t he? Perhaps he did not try to, but itmust have been possible, right? So yeah. Creepy.

The Quenta Silmarillion,The Lost Road and Other Writings.

Here, wehave more or less the same narrative; the syntax and vocabulary are slightlydifferent but the meaning is the same (“Felagund drew nigh among the trees tothe camp of Bëor and he remained hidden until all had fallen asleep […] and hetook a rude harp […] and they marvelled, for wisdom was in that song as well asbeauty […] at first they deemed that Felagund was one of the gods […] butFelagund told them true lore […].) Which means that this meeting has alwaysfollowed the same narrative pattern, with no major change between the differentperiods of writing.

Now there aretwo more points that trouble me, which appear in the LQS and in the Lost Road…’sQS: While in the published Silmarillionwe have “in this way he got his name, Bëor, whereas his name before had beenBalan; for Bëor signified ‘Vassal” in the tongue of his people”, in the LQS wehave: “thus Bëor got his name, for it signified Vassal in their tongue, andeach of their chieftains after him bore this name as a title until the time ofBregolas and Barahir, and in QS: “thus Bëor the Vassal got his name among the Noldor".

Ok. A bitof intellectual honesty is required here; it is true that in medievalliterature vassalage was often seen as something very honorific, and Bëor’sloyalty to Finrod is given as something beautiful and honourable. And again, Ido believe that, on the question of sentiments between Finrod and Bëor, it wasgenuine. Yet, I can help feeling a bit uneasy about the whole thing, especiallyin the name-title which is inherited as a way to remind them of their place inthe hierarchy…. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. But. Yeah. Irks.

We alsohave something in both the LQS and in the QS:

“For Bëor and his folk laterlearned the language of the Eldar and forsook their own.”

Although it is greatfor them to be able to speak the Eldarin tongue, I’m quite uncomfortable withthe idea that they just dropped their own tongue… Ok, the Eldar wereinfluential lords and they were numerous and all, but still. To totally forsake one’slanguage under the influence of powerful lords (in a few generations only) isquite… disturbing. And Tolkien was a linguist, he knew the history of languages,he knew that a language doesn’t simply disappear because the people decided toforsake it. Proof is given in the Silmarillion:

“Men had long had dealings withthe Dark elves, east of the Mountains, and from them had learned much of theirspeech, and since all the languages of the Quendi were of one origin, thelanguage of Bëor and is folk resembled the Elven-tongue in many words anddevices”.

This makes sense, because languages influence one another, they mergethrough the contacts with other people, and that’s apparently the case betweenthe Atani and the Dark-Elves. Yet, when one language is totally forsaken to bereplaced by another one, it is much more… problematic? Or at least ambiguous, especiallysince the Eldar are very good at learning other languages.

A new wave ofintellectual honesty is required: It is true that Tolkien enriched this idea,through the character of Tuor, and it is given in the Lhammas:

“Naught is preservedof the most ancient speeches of Men, save of the tongue of the folk of Bëor andHaleth and Hador. Now the languages of these folks were greatly influenced bythe Green-Elves, and it was of old, named Taliska, and this tongue was knownstill to Tuor[…], and it was in part recorded by the wise men of Gondolin whereTuor for a while abode. Yet Tuor himself used this tongue no longer, foralready even in Gumlin’s day men in Beleriand forsook the daily use of theirown tongue and spoke and gave names unto their children children in the languageof the Gnomes.”

So, some mortals remembered the old tongue, but only the most literate apparently; whichconfirms the idea of one language –that of the vassals – being replaced by that of their lords who are supposed tobe keen on languages. Historically, the influence of a language is related tothe power of the people speaking it: Wealth -> big army (+ loads of manuscripts)-> influential language. So it makes sense in Beleriand. But language ispower, and even though the Men willingly adopted the Eldarin tongue, it seemsvery strange that they simply forsook their native tongue… Right?

Now, I have no definitive conclusion and I don’t try to prove anything since I don’t really know how to take it myself - I only find this whole passage weird. It isambiguous. Obviously,Finrod liked Bëor’s people and respected them. After all, he did help themsettle in Beleriand, he trusted them and was a good lord to them. But the more I thinkabout it, the more I read some elements as a manifestation of something that isa bit “imperialistic” (“helping the poor uncivilized men to climb theladder of civilisation”……………..) Maybe I’mwrong, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll eventually change my mind about this interpretationwhich is far from being the only possible reading. But I cannot unsee these problematicelements. In any case, I cling to my opinion that there’s something unclear,if only in the diegetic narrator’s intents.

#anonymous #each time i read the silm i read this passage several times to make sure it's not me misreading it.... each time it gets weirder..... idk #i have an irritating tendency to quesiton every narrative #academic quirks #headcanon #meta #sort of #ooc

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jaeminlore · 7 years

Text

Library Assistant!Wonwoo

i'm back with one of the most precious boys in t world, jeon wonwoo <3

• anon wanted a troublemaker reader so here we gooo • you and mingyu are best friends and since you’re kind of outgoing and daring you tend to drag him everywhere • to the library for instance

• and even though you’re supposed to be studying what you’re really doing is drawing pictures in one of the library’s resource books

• stick figures of you and mingyu • the caption is probably something like • “skool sucks lolololol” • “kim mingyu smells” • “if ur reading this u r a loser” • you’re just a harmless troll really • bUT • this particular day when you two are hanging out in the library, mingyu suddenly slams your book closed • and you turn around to give him a piece of your mind bc what the heck mingyu who does that • until you see jeon wonwoo • aka the librarians assistant • aka the silent brooding type • aka one of the most handsome people on campus • with his oversized sweater and his large glasses that always slip off of his nose • he is really is handsome • too bad he’s so boring !!!! • ur convinced he went to some special librarian school where they sucked the fun out of him and made him into this super quiet boy who only makes an appearance when a book is being abused • you’re not here for it tbh • uNfOrtUnateLY wonwoo is mingyu’s other best friend so you two sorta kind of know each other • and he hates you so much lol • he KNOWS you are the one writing in his precious books but unless he catches you in the act he can’t technically prove it • BACK TO THE STORY • so wonwoo comes over and he’s shooting daggers at u like • “u just wrote in that book” • bc u were never one to back down from a fight you’re like • “maybe i did. maybe i didn’t. what you gonna do abt it????” • he does this semi cute huff and just frowns as he takes the book out of ur hands • “you wrote mingyu smells i know it’s you.” • cue mingyu: “i don’t smell!” • you try to tug the book back bc he can’t prove anything without it • “give me back the encyclopedia!!!!” • “lolololololololol no” • “wow i hate you” • “h8 u 2 m8” • this is basically how you two react on a daily basis • UNTIL ONE NIGHT • so mingyu had been cramming for exams and when he does this he kinda goes into Hibernating Bear Mode™ except instead of sleeping he does nothing but study • and the two of you had planned to watch neflix this particular night just to kind of distract yourselves from exams and whatever • but mingyu is nowhere to be found • and you check EVERYWHERE • you check his favorite coffee shop, the park he studies at, the gym he goes to when he’s stressed, the canteen, his dorm… you even called the 97 liners like “where tf is mingyu we have a marathon of bob’s burgers to watch” • and no one knows • but minghao gives you the best hint you can use at the moment “did you ask wonwoo?” • no way,,, there is no way u r gonna swallow ur pride and ask that … bookworm … to help u find mingyu • but thinking of wonwoo makes you think of the library, so you head on over hoping he had just fallen asleep and the security guard missed him • because at this point it’s reaching midnight and u aren’t even supposed to be out of bed,, let alone the campus library like come on • anyway the library isn’t open but you find a cracked window in the back to slide through • “mingyu!” you start whispering for your friend, hoping the security guard isn’t roaming the halls • you head over to the study second w all the tables and stuff • and lo and behold,,, mingyu isn’t there but instead it’s wonwoo • nd he’s just lazily walking thru the library w a squeaky cart, placing books back in their proper places • he’s tired, and in the dark you can see him cover his yawn with a sweater paw • ur heart does a lil somersault but like,,, u would never admit that bc you can’t find a dork attractive • esp not wonwoo, who is rumored to date books • you started that rumor but tbh you don’t doubt it • wonwoo finally catches you peaking around the corner and lets out a scream of terror bc he thought you were some kind of ancient book demon or smth • “wHaT tHe heCK!!!!!!” • you fall on the floor dYing bc his reaction was so funny • he looked like a startled deer tbh • “that was hilarious” you’re still giggling • and despite his absolute Hatred™ for you,, wonwoo finds himself blushing bc of how carefree you are in the moment • so … he gets kinda quiet and tries to become brooding again because that’s his Brand around here and there’s no way you’re going to break it with a simple giggle • at least… you aren’t going to know you did • “what do u want?” • after u sober up it gets kinda serious bc you’re still rlly worried for mingyu “is mingyu here? i can’t find him?” • “mingyu? i haven’t seen him.” • you let out a distressed sigh bc mingyu is a scatterbrain and he genuinely could’ve gotten lost around campus or smth •you sigh in distress: “he was supposed to come to my dorm a few hours ago and i can’t find him. ive looked everywhere.” • and as you speak wonwoo is suddenly,,, really disappointed,,, but he doesn’t know why,,, • “oh really? i didn’t know you two were dating…” nd he just kind of kicks himself mentally bc why wouldn’t you date mingyu honestly? • he’s handsome, he’s buff, he’s a great cook… wonwoo should’ve seen it coming tbh • but then you crinkle your nose like “dating? ew! i’d rather date you than mingyu and that’s saying something.” • even tho it was an insult and he’s slightly offended, wonwoo still felt a bit of hope blooming in his chest that for some reason just got bigger whenever you smiled at him • he also was blushing pretty dang hard but we aren’t going to talk abt that • anyway back to the topic at hand • wonwoo scratches the back of his neck and nervously suggests looking together. “we can try the kitchen if you haven’t looked there.” • “the what?” • “the kitchen. yknow, mingyu goes there every once and awhile to make food and wind down. he’s got a key and stuff so i don’t think the cooks mind him doing it.” • this is all very new information to you • but it’s the best bet so you agree. • you let wonwoo come with you because you don’t know the way • and also he’s rlly cute and kinda nice when he’s not yelling at you for an overdue book • but you would never tell him that ofc • as you both walk over there • nd it’s sort of awkward so you try to start a conversation • “isn’t the library closed? why were you stocking books?” • wonwoo smiled embarrassingly, “well i was actually just pretending to stock books. you see, there was a new shipment of books coming in and i wanted first pick of all the good ones before anyone else got to them.” • you giggle. bc,,, of course he would • “so you don’t mind breaking the rules, as long as it’s for books.” • “yeah and you always go against books which is why i can’t be associated with you.” • “well it gets boring in the library,” you whined. “can’t there be legos or coloring books to play with when students want to wind down but don’t want to read?” • “what are you, five? and why go to a library if you aren’t going to read?” • “mingyu needs someone to keep him company,” you said. “and i don’t like reading or studying so i would appreciate you taking note of that in the future.” • “right okay let me go buy a bunch of coloring books just so you can stay busy when you can literally bring one yourself.” • “that’s all i’m asking” • during your banter, you arrive at the kitchen • lo and behold mingyu is just chilling at the stove, eating some seasoned chicken • “hey guys grab a fork! i made extra!” • after you and wonwoo chide him for worrying you so much, you all sit down and eat • and • you don’t want to admit it • but it was rlly nice being able to get along with wonwoo • and he’s even cuter when he’s eating • his nose scrunches up and like you can’t help but stare at him a few times bc he’s a cutie • but he’s staring at you too so it’s all good • when the foods all eaten mingyu tells you guys to go ahead; that he’d stay behind and clean • he just ships y'all and wants one of you to make a move if we’re being honest • so wonwoo walks you back to your dorm and • you just stare at each other bc what do you do? do you ask for his number? kiss his cheek? • wonwoo answers your question by holding out his hand • fOr a haNdSHakE • but it isn’t that awkward because his hands are soft and warm • “i’ve got to go take care of some things,” he says, letting go of your hand and backing up. “i’ll see you tomorrow.” • “okay. thanks for helping me!” • “anytime.” • and that’s … that • and you’re pretty sure your crush was just fleeting and one-sided like there’s no way he’d ever like you • but • the next morning you walk into the library and on one of the tables • is a coloring book and some colored pencils • you pick it up and look around hoping to see wonwoo • you do, and he’s stocking shelves again, unable to come and talk • instead he just gives you and soft smile and mimes for you to open it you do, and his number is scribbled in • “maybe we could do something together? xxx-xxxx, let me know. wonwoo” • yep. your crush definitely isn’t one-sided.

#if you took a shot every time i wrote the word cute #you'd be dead with alcohol poisoning #seventeen scenario #seventeen as #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen reaction #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagine #seventeen imagines #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo au #wonwoo as #wonwoo reactions #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo imagine #destwrites

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lahusti · 7 years

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Many Stories to Write, Too Much Procrastination

Do This: List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on. This can be writing, art, vids, gifsets, whatever

I didn’t get tagged bc I’m a loner but honestly it made me curious about what I have laying about as I’m an unorganised ass. I use working titles only because naming all of my files story[nr] would lead to misery. Here I’ve tried to order them by their type from the most recent to the ancient ones I still want to finish one day.

Fanfiction

dinner - a short Johnlock fic I’m actively working on. John references some stuff from ASiB that has a romantic subtext for the two of them, it leads to an open discussion.

FMSBINGO1_dance - a ca 1.5k Claire/Izzy (Shadowhunters) fic. Happens between S1 and S2. After fighting some demons they have a victory dance to cheer them up. Yes, I like writing weird things. I’ve decided I’m not happy with how it turned out tho so I mostly pretend it doesn’t exist.

hair - a ca 2k Johnlock fic. The prompt was basically about Sherlock enjoying John’s fingers in his hair and inventing silly excuses for it to happen.

The Professional Home-Wrecker - 17k of Johnlock. Sherlock wrecks the relationships he is hired to wreck, often using his acting skills. When he meets John, he asks him to assist; John naturally agrees. I can’t remember what the rest of it is about and I’m not about to muddle through, but there’s Moriarty there somewhere.

bobheads - 1.5k of Johnlock. Inspired by a prompt. Basically Sherlock receives bobble head dolls of himself and John and starts playing with them in secret, one day John finds out.

spider - Remember that news story of how one night a guy screamed like a woman and trashed his apartment, the police was called, and it turned out he was just killing a spider? Well, I made it happen in 221b and Johnlock love confessions ensued. in about 500 words.

temp!Fem!S2 - Johnlock. A witch cursed Sherlock’s body to turn into a woman’s whenever he was bored. Once he accidentally runs into John in his other form and can’t make himself refuse John’s advances. There’s angst and lots of plotholes since I can’t plan ahead and needed to churn words out as fast as I could, thus I don’t really know what the witch(=Mary?) and Moriarty were trying to achieve. 19k of cringe

3kinks - Sherlock/Mycroft. For a prompt, warnings for some illegal kinks!

story - 6k of what was supposed to become a long Johnlock fic. The first part would happen in kindergarten (which might be a mistake bc initially I kinda built it around a non-UK system). There’s Moriarty, Mrs Hudson, and a bunch of OCs. Then John has to move away, Sherlock is devastated and deletes him. They meet again similarly to canon, everything is the same as in canon until Sherlock has to recover his memories for a case. Pining and angst (and possibly Mary) happens.

Original

[talking birds] - 600 words of what’s supposed to become a How To Train Your Dragon-esque fantasy novel. I think I haven’t typed up some of my notes so it’s probably doomed already.

competence - a 3k-long short story of competence and good/bad intentions. Possibly horribly clichéd but whatever.

experience - a 2k-long short story of a guy who’s possibly bipolar and who forgets to take his meds one day and what happens when his mates get him into some shady stuff

ghost - a short story. A history teacher goes to an old manor. There the ghost!manservant asks her to accompany his ghost!master to dinner to try to set them free. The servant knows he can’t rest until his master is happy/at peace, and he thinks falling in love might help so he keeps setting him up with women. The teacher figures out the answer is gay love

A fanvid: BBC Sherlock - You touch my tralala/The ding dong song, because that’s my kind of humour. I’ve got some p good notes, lots of materials, maybe 20 seconds of vid, and no prior experience.

Looks like I’ve given up all of my attempts at Merthur fic

#hopefully this amuses or inspires or encourages someone #btw there are many dire things i've left out bc this is enough of dirty laundry already #My writing #personal

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