#please give those poor elves some long hair

[snowbellewells]

“Elf Service” {A CSSS2021 gift fic}

Title: “Elf Service” - my CSSS2021 gift

@imagnifika I am your Secret Santa in the @cssecretsanta2021 event @cssecretsanta2020

I realize that I am getting this in just under the wire on the 26th, but I still hope that you will enjoy your gift (or at least cover art and the opening - as a temporary sneak peek/preview)  The fic in its entirety should be coming in the next day or two, but there have been some unforeseen family things these last few days that have made being in the writing headspace - or having time to do it - difficult. I didn’t want to rush it and give you a gift that felt unfinished or just not as good as I had hoped to give you. Please enjoy this teaser of the beginning though, and be looking for the rest as soon as possible. 

I’ve enjoyed being your Santa and getting to know you a bit. Hope this season will be a wonderful one for you and yours, and that you’ll have a happy new year too!

~ @snowbellewells

And now, one with the fic.... ;)

“Elf Service”  (for @imagnifika​ )

‘What was I thinking?’ Emma Swan blew out a frustrated breath while berating herself heartily. Strands of her blonde hair were lifted from her overheated forehead as she shook her head and stared at the long line before her, even in the self-checkout. She should never have waited so late on the 23rd of December to try to get the last minute ingredients she needed for their holiday dinner and Henry’s last few gifts as well. It seemed half of Boston had done the same - and now they were all paying for it.

She was exhausted, irritable, and more than a bit impatient; it took almost all the fortitude she could muster to stay planted in line with her cart, barely inching forward, rather than ditching it and getting out of there, no matter how much she’d wanted to try that new stuffing recipe and see the sparkle she had envisioned in Henry’s eyes after being able to add another couple items from his list to her haul after the surprise bonus she’d been awarded. Tracking down deadbeats wasn’t easy or glamorous, but she was good at it, and if pressed, Emma would admit to a flush of pride at the recognition for her efforts.

Using what she felt was admirable restraint, Emma kept herself from tapping her toes as people seemed to creep along ahead of her, going slower than should be humanly possible as they rang up items, asked for help, began again, rifled in their bags for their credit cards, and finally took their receipts and purchases and moved on.

‘At least I’m not stuck in some ridiculous costume,’ she thought with a disbelieving huff of derision as she glanced around her at the associates running the checkout lines, re-stocking the cart carrell, and assisting those who needed it at the self-check stations she was waiting on. The poor folks were not only overworked and underpaid in holiday retail dealing with crowds of harried customers such as herself, but they had also clearly been ordered to dress as merry little elves in Santa’s workshop. Shaking her head at the indignity heaped on these poor people, she took a moment to let the pointed hats, pom-pom adorned, upturned toed shoes, red and white striped leggings and green, fuzzy, white-trimmed getups sink in. Muttering to herself about stores not paying grown-ups enough to force them to dress like cartoon characters, she gratefully moved forward enough to finally be next in line for an open station and that much closer to fresh air and freedom.

Then, finally, she was running her purchases over the scanner, intensely focused on seeing each item register correctly and get tucked into the waiting bay just right. The last thing she needed at the moment was to cause the machine to misread or freeze up. She’d learned the hard way that these supposed “convenient” devices could be temperamental, and they had delayed her escape from the store on more than one occasion.

She was just a handful of purchases from finishing when the hanger from the new shirt she’d bought Henry got hooked on the one holding the little sweat suit that she’d also been unable to resist getting him. The clothing scanned but then, caught up together, missed the waiting bag and careened to the floor, causing the weight of the item not to register to the machine, and it began blaring robotically about an “unseen item in the baggage area” to her frustration and embarrassment.

Just what she’d been trying to avoid, her mind grumbled as she bent to retrieve the clothes and disentangle them. She couldn’t help the irritated growl she let out when the register refused to let her continue checking out without an associate voiding the mistake. Barely managing not to throw up her hands in defeat, Emma bit her tongue to avoid yelling at whatever hapless “elf” did come to her aid and attempted to wait with what little modicum of patience she still possessed. 

“Can I be of assistance, Lass?” a low, silky voice rumbled, much closer to her ear that she’d been expecting, causing a frisson of electricity to shiver through her, even as she jumped in surprise. 

Spinning around, Emma narrowly missed colliding with a dark-haired, lean muscled associate, standing close enough to nearly have her frazzled ponytail smack him in the face. She was about to sarcastically ask what it looked like she needed, or to tell him to back up and out of her space, when his twinkling blue eyes and handsome features made the words die away on her tongue.

Emma caught her breath, wanting to answer smartly and recover a bit of her dignity, but when she looked up into a playfully smouldering expression, strong, scruffy jawline, and appropriately rather elfishly tipped ears, speech was slow to return. She just kept drinking in the profile tilted questioningly toward her and coming up stunned and mutely smitten, not that she was about to admit that to anyone - even herself.

Backing up rapidly, Emma tried to blink the stars from her eyes and put some distance between them. Unfortunately, she couldn’t make a hasty getaway because her purchases were only half bagged and the register still as uncooperative as it had been. Half-tempted to at least grab her filled bags and make a run for it, instead she finally huffed out a resigned sigh and gave her would-be rescuer a curt nod of assent. She might never get out of the store otherwise.

The costumed employee - who was minute-by-minute making an elf seem like a ridiculously attractive holiday character - smirked then, the look a mischievous one, complete with arched brow, that made her want to smack him upside the head for mocking her, even as she was equally enticed to jerk him to her by the front of his bright green outfit and smush his lips back into a less maddening shape with her own. Irritatingly, at her agreement, her “elf” helper had the snag with her register righted in no time with annoying ease. “Anything elese I can assist you with, Love?” he questioned. Rather cheekily, it felt to Emma.

Blushing furiously, she swiped her card, snatched her receipt, and tried to gather all her bags in one quick grab without making any further eye contact. Her blurted, “Nope, all set now,” was a rush of words, followed by a snarked, “and I’m not your love” that she realized too late hadn’t been as under the breath as intended.

Her gaze shot guiltily to his face once more, and she was moderately comforted by the slight red suffusing his neck and cheeks now as well. Her handsome assistant scratched at a spot behind his ear uneasily. “Apologies, Lo - Ma’am,” he amended sincerely enough. Then, just a bit of that rogueish smile quirked one corner of his generous, intriguing mouth upwards again. “But you can’t blame an elf for trying, can you?”

Snorting inelegantly, Emma couldn’t help the short burst of laughter that escaped her unbidden. “I don’t know about that,” she deadpanned back, not sure what had come over her in that moment, “Seems to me like Santa might not approve.”

The guy’s blue eyes widened in surprise, but also lit with pleasure at her playing along.

Yet, fun as it was for a moment, Emma’s instinct to pull back - self-preservation, she reminded herself - had her turning with a quick, “Thanks all the same,” and darting away, hurriedly tossing a “Merry Christmas” back over her shoulder before practically dashing for the store’s front exit.

She couldn’t get far enough away from wildly attractive and flirtatious strangers, even ones harmlessly dressed as holiday characters. She’d learned that lesson all too well a long time ago. And yet, as the bracing chill of the air hit her in the parking lot, Emma knew that she might have gotten away from temptation just in time, but she wasn’t going to easily forget that playfully engaging face or those rather adorably pointed ears that suited his costume all too well. Nope, those blue eyes would be dancing through her dreams tonight rather than any visions of sugarplums, and there wasn’t much she could do about that.

* I promise you should have the rest of this soon, and again I hope you will enjoy this first bit for now, and continue to have a wonderful holiday season!! *

#cssecretsanta2021 #csss21 #cs secret santa gift fic #cs modern au #gift for @imagnifika

[telewaywashere]

My take on the Amazon RoP series

I wanted to like this show. I really did, but there’s just some things that aren’t worth supporting after a certain point. First? The VF article. They straight up call fans “trolls” for wanting a faithful adaptation. That is one of the dumbest business angles you can do with well beloved huge things like Hobbit/LotR/Silm. There’s millions of people all around the world of all walks of life who love this, and you go and call them “trolls”? Yeah. Not good. Yes, there’s a certain percentage (although small) that have an issue with race. Most of the fans however do NOT. No. We want to know why a dwarven female has thin, wispy sideburns instead of a glorious beard. We want to know why most, if not all the male elves, have short, modern hairdos. They can’t even do canon characters right. Galadriel with a sword and armor? This is a downgrade while trying to make her “badass”. She was so powerful, she could go on the battlefield without all that. Also the eight-point star on her armor? I can see why people are asking “Why is she wearing a Feanorian star??” I’m honestly just as concerned. Elrond’s “politically ambitious“? Excuse me? And with that hairdo? I am very afraid they’re going to turn him into Trump or something close enough. Then there’s the elf identified as Finrod recently. Please no. That elf was so freaking awesome, he challenged Sauron to a singing match. If you’ve read the books, or have done a quick google search (which is more research then the people at Amazon have done), you’ll see why people are freaking exploding at this. “But why are people so fussy about elf hair?” Simple. It made them stand out in the PJ films from the men. Give them short, modern haircuts, and it’s hard to tell them apart from humans. Also when you have to lift an elf’s hair to see if they have pointy ears or not (as seen in the trailer), you’re doing elves (especially Galadriel) wrong. She should be noticeable from a long distance away. Not up close.  ”But why are people so fussy about a female dwarf having a beard?” Again, simple. Right in the books, it basically says that dwarves of both genders have facial hair from the time of birth. And since this is supposed to be a princess, I expect her to have a better beard then the average dwarf, with metal, jewels, and other fine riches all braided in. Not this poor excuse of facial hair (where you have to alter the picture just to see that it’s there to begin with). And the family OCs...Why the hell does Isildur suddenly have a sister? What purpose could she possibly serve? Why does Galadriel suddenly have another brother named Adar (elvish for “Father” by the way)? Something tells me they’re not going to explain any of this and bitch the instant those of use who even know a tiny bit of the lore ask for their reasons. Just watch. They’re going do double down calling everyone “trolls” and other insults just because we want to know WHY. The way I see it, this is a dumpster fire that will continue to burn.

#lord of the rings #power of the rings

[incorrect-lotr-trash]

Thoughts on Tauriel?

ooooooh b o i I’m guess you’re asking because I mentioned I don’t like her in reply to a different ask. Before I lay down my thoughts, I need to give a wee disclaimer. 

If you love Tauriel, then fantastic & please continue to do so!! I totally appreciate that to some people she is amazing and I 100% support you loving on her! What I’m going to express is just MY personal opinion on the character. NOT THE ACTRESS. Evangeline Lilly is a sweetheart and an amazing actress!! My issues are with the character/writing, not the actress.  In expressing my own thoughts I am also NOT encouraging ANY hate on the character. Hate is never welcome and never okay regardless of character opinions and tastes. I completely respect those who adore Tauriel and I encourage the love on her to continue. 

All that said, I do not vibe with Tauriel. For several reasons.  I get far too strong ‘I’m not like other girls’ vibes from her. There is this sense of her needing to assert her authority and power because she is a female elf. And yet, Arwen and Galadriel never give me those vibes. In the case of the latter two, they are extremely powerful and self-defining without any need to prove it or appear ‘strong’ around others. You just know upon first meeting Arwen that she is confident in herself and her place and doesn’t need those around her to reassure her of it - she just simply IS. In contrast to Tauriel, she just comes across rather... insecure? to me. Like, she needs those around her to know that she is powerful and she needs to know that they know. If that sentence makes sense at all.  She also, in my opinion, is selfish. But its framed as a ‘good moral’ thing. (This is just a badly written character, I do not blame anyone but the writers for this) She disobeys her King and then acts shocked when he banishes her? Whilst yeah Thranduil is a questionable moral character, you cannot doubt that he has his people at his heart and was trying to protect Tauriel with them. She paints Thranduil as a dark evil overlord and yeah Thranduil is pretty heckin’ scary - but this guy has single-handedly protected his kind for hundreds of years, he has fought in multiple wars and he VERY CLEARLY still mourns the loss of his wife - to the point he is willing to have an open war with the dwarves just to get some gems that were meant for her. She tries to tell him that he has no love in him, but when you actually look at Thranduil’s actions - underneath the cold exterior everything he does is for love. For his wife, and his people. 

I also kind of find it hard to believe she would fall for Kili so quickly? Now don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy the cute romance and thought it was a nice touch. But I question if it was done in the right way. The hate between elves and dwarves goes back CENTURIES. In LOTR Legolas and Gimli hate each other for a long time. It is not until Gimli comes to admire Galadriel and she gives him his blessing that things begin to turn, and even then their elf/dwarf bond was extremely strange. Tauriel is in Thranduil’s Kingdom. THRANDUIL’S KINGDOM. THE GUY WHO HAS BEEF WITH THE DWARVES OF THE MOUNTAIN. She would’ve had a lot of prejudices against dwarves that aren’t just gonna go away after a wee chat about stars. Again, that’s poor writing. By all means have the romance - but it just needed to be built upon a bit more I think.  Shes kind of a Mary Sue (Again - just my opinion!). She has these super cool ‘unusual’ traits of being both a fighter and a healer. Which from what I understand is unusual for Elves. Elrond has both - but hes Elrond and it makes sense. For Tauriel it just seems...? Why..? What is the point? It kinda leads back into that whole ‘I’m not like other girls’ vibe again. I’m sure I read somewhere that her ginger hair is also unusual, I’m not gonna sit here and try pick apart her hair - its more the point that shes ‘special’ and ‘unique’ and ‘not like other girls’ I also don’t understand why there was any need for Legolas to have feelings for her. I kind of like the fact that in LOTR Legolas isn’t involved in any love story - it makes him stand out and allows you to focus on his character. It just didn’t add anything at all, and I wonder what Tolkien would think of someone bringing a love interest into Legolas’s life. 

She just doesn’t stand up to Arwen, Galadriel or Eowyn.  BUT THIS IS ALL JUST MY OPINION AND YOU ARE 100% ENTITLED TO DISAGREE WITH ME. IM NOT TRYING TO START FIGHTS OR HATE. PLEASE CONTINUE LOVING ON TAURIEL IF YOU LIKE HER.  IF THIS DOES SPARK ANY RIDICULOUS HATE I WILL BE DELETING IT.  Those are my thoughts Anon! 💝

#people are totally entitled to disagree with me like its fine #if you love her then pls continue to do so!!! im staying in my lane!!! #i only gave these opinions because someone asked #theyre just MY thoughts on it all

[touyota]

Hoe Hoe Hoe

☁️ Summary: Satoru Gojo *cough* *cough* I mean Santa Claus jingles your bells on Christmas Eve.

A/N: y’all this fic whooped my ass literally, but i think it came out pretty good. i think my smut is getting better, so hopefully i keep the momentum going for all my future fics. (also ik i’m late for the holidays but better late than never!)

☁️ Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Elf Reader

☁️ Warnings: Size kink, bulging, slight breeding kink, gojo’s massive 🐓

The holidays were always an overwhelming time at the workshop. You and your fellow elves worked overtime to fulfill the yearly abundance of Christmas lists that were received, and to be quite frank; you were due for a fucking break. As a head elf, you spent your days monitoring the shop floor and managing quality control. Everything and anything went through you, especially before it got to Santa.

You were handling a crisis on the floor, something about a particular video game console shortage, when you received a message from the big man himself.

“I swear... if I hear another word about how we are out of stock, I will personally shove a candy cane up your ass. We’re fucking elves, just go make some more.“ You shooed the elf off before taking a deep breath. You wanted to tear your hair out, every minor inconvenience didn’t require your assistance, yet they always found a way to you. In a last-ditch effort to keep your composure, you began to practice a method you learned in your weekly anger management meetings.

“One….two….three….four….five” You exhaled, opening your eyes to see a particular pink-haired headache, elf approaching waving and skipping towards you. You started counting faster; hopefully, he’d be gone at the end of your count.

“One..two..three..four..five”

“Boss! Oh, boss! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Fuck he was getting closer. You braced yourself, hoping he was referring to another supervisor standing near you.

“Onetwothreefourfiveonetwothreefourfiveonetwothreefourfive”

“What’s with the counting boss? You must be counting down the hours before we give everyone the best Christmas ever!” Yuji cheesed, barely able to contain his giddiness. Oh, bless his heart, Yuji was somewhat new to the shop and was a hard worker, but a few screws were missing upstairs.

“I have a bomb ticking inside my head.” you deadpanned, hoping to spook him off so you could go hide in your office.

“Oh…..Oh no, boss, you need to get checked out immediately, we need to call the police, the ambulance, the bomb squad, we might have to cancel Christmas. If we cancel Christmas, they won’t get their presents, and they’ll all be upset an-“ It was truly endearing. You could almost see the steam pouring from his ears as he panicked about you and your well-being. You pinched his lips shut before he managed to alert the rest of the workshop.

“Yuji, I was lying…what do you need?” The panic drained from his face, a relieved smile taking its place.

“The big man wants to see you, something about squashing a few last-minute details. He trailed off, focusing his attention on someone in the distance. “Nobara, stop drinking my eggnog, and don't touch my cookies!” Yuji ran off, thankfully abandoning your conversation.

You began your trek to the big man’s office, the big man being Satoru Gojo, direct descendant of Kris Kringle and newly appointed Santa Claus. Gojo was indeed an enigma, barely leaving his office only for special occasions such as Christmas Eve and Christmas itself. The only way you could speak to him was if he requested you directly.

The walk to the office required dragging yourself up to three flights of stairs before you reached the red door decorated with brightly colored green tinsel and oversized candy canes.

You made sure to knock, you weren’t completely devoid of manners, and you wanted to keep your job. A sultry voice sounded through the door.

“Come on in.” You gently open the door, almost tip-toeing in before slowly closing the door.

“You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. I don't bite unless you want me to.” You scurried towards the desk, not wanting to waste any more of his limited time.

“......Sorry, Mr. Claus, I came as soon as Yuji told me he said something about a few last-minute details.”

“He was right; come sit right here.” As inviting as he looked, patting his lap, you took several hesitant steps before perching yourself on his lap. “Get comfortable; we have a few things to discuss, nothing outrageous, just a few... things.” You played the velvet fabric of your skirt as he droned off about the minor details that could’ve been dealt with by any other elf. You grunted in response to the open-ended questions asked. “I think that’s it. Did you get all that?” He skimmed through his never-ending checklist to confirm.

“Oh...um, yes, I did, in fact, I’ll go deal with that right now.” You dust your lap off and lean forward to push up off of the oversized chair. Only to find that you haven’t moved an inch. “Um…...Mr. Claus…I can’t move, and I need to….” you trailed off, disrupted by a gloved hand tilting your chin, forcing you to look directly into those soft blue eyes.

“Tsk tsk tsk, I knew you weren’t paying attention, puddin’.” He faked a face of hurt before using the arm that wasn’t wrapped around your waist to swipe his cluttered desk clear. “I said that-” Pausing to slam your form down unto the oversized desk. “I said that all I want for Christmas is to fuck you until this desk breaks.” He whispered, pressing several gentle kisses along the column of your neck. The room temperature had increased tremendously, and the red wool suit pressed against you made it no better.

“Uh...wow...um, it’s getting kinda hot in here, don’t you think?” You pulled at your collar, hoping to put some kind of separation between you two. You were in no way trying to reject his advances. You were just entirely ambushed by how fast things were moving. Another urgent concern was the sheer size of “Santa.” You were already genetically disadvantaged in the height category as an elf, but this behemoth of a man towered over you. It left you to believe that he was more than proportionate in the nether regions.

“I think you’re right. See, that’s exactly why you’re my right-hand puddin’.” Before you could blink, you were almost instantly rid of your gown, leaving you in your unfortunately modest black undergarments. You pouted, wishing you were given some kind of warning in advance. “Poor baby, next time I’ll let you get all dolled up for me, maybe I’ll wrap you up with a bow and leave you under my tree.” You couldn’t contain your whimper at the thought, roping your legs around his waist, mimicking the same motion with your arms around his neck.

A loud horn sounded off, signaling Santa’s departure was nearing. “As much as I’d love to sit and ravish you till dawn, duty calls.” You were drawn into several more gentle kisses before Gojo deepened the kiss, nearly smothering you. You were on the brink of suffocation when he finally eased up, allowing you to catch your breath. when you felt your panties tugged to the side. “You have such a pretty pussy puddin’. I could sit here and play with it all day long.” Two callused fingers daintily drew circles around your clit, stopping to pull at the sensitive nub causing you to whine at each tug.

“Ah- p-please...Santa” You couldn’t wait anymore. Each stroke brought you closer and closer to your peak.

“Please, what pretty girl? I won’t know until you tell me.” Purposely speeding up his ministrations.

“Please...please...please...fuck me.” You cried out, you could barely contain yourself, and he wasn’t making it any better.

The air knocked out of your chest as the blunt tip of his cock breached your entrance. There was a brief pause before Gojo’s hips slammed forward, setting a brutal pace. You couldn’t form any thought, only incoherent mumbles, and whimpers leaving your mouth. The desk was rocking with each thrust, nearly throwing you off.

“Y-you feel so fucking good, ugh...this sweet little pussy sucking me in. You like that, huh? Using you like a little fuck toy? Y-yeah, you’re Santa’s little fuck toy, you just lay there and look pretty, and I’ll fuck you full of my kids. I’ll make you Mrs. Claus, and you won’t have to work in that shitty little workshop anymore. How does that sound?” Gojo’s cock pounding away at your cervix, blurring the lines of pain and pleasure.

You could almost cry because it all sounded fucking amazing. You were floating on a cloud each stroke. The rhythm was slowing to deep, deliberate thrusts when you felt an oversized hand rest on your belly.

…….Holy shit.

You nearly fainted seeing the outline of his massive cock bulge through your belly. You could tell Gojo was close, skin slapping as his thrusts sped up again. The final press of his palm forcing you over, and Gojo the same with his final thrust. Both of you were murmuring and moaning as he nudged into another breath-taking kiss. The desk finally loses its bearing and falls apart, leaving you both as panting messes on the ground.

You had wood chips in places that they shouldn’t be, and the chuckling giant next to you wasn’t helping. Your quirked an eyebrow up and questioned him. “What’s so funny?”

“I think I need to add a new desk to my Christmas list.”

#satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #gojo x reader #jjk imagines #tw: size kink #tw: bulging #tw: breeding #satoru gojo

[a-lonely-tatertot]

Finding Home

First / Wattpad / Ao3

A/N: Second to last chapter boiiissss :DD! once again betaed by the amazing @bookwyrminspiration! also @cadence-talle helped with editing after having to deal with me yell way to much about it!

words: 4731

tw: n/a if you do find any please let me know

The sun had set again, in a brilliant display of colors lighting up the sky. Sophie wondered what it would be like to be the sun; the center of everything, endlessly spinning. It was probably dizzying. 

She chuckled at the thought before turning back to her girls.

That was right, her girls. Her Linh and Amy. Linh made her feel like the sun sometimes, all dizzy inside and out, not quite knowing what way to go. Not knowing what was right, only what her instincts told her (even if they were wrong).

Linh held her hand as they walked, finding their way down to the van, old and worn down, but it still held up with only mild complaints. 

"We need more time," Fitz had groaned at the table that morning, Sophie responding with a hum of agreement. The twins weren't back to themselves yet and Sophie couldn't imagine going back to school and pretending that her best friend wasn't living with her pseudo-mom (was she even allowed to call Mari that?). Amy had perked up at Fitz's words, a mischievous smile on her face. 

"Sophie," she started. "Do you remember that cabin Mom and Dad used to take us to?"

Sophie did. All too clearly if she could say. It was a fairly large thing, they went on summer breaks, and whenever they could. Countless memories of laughing and running around as her parents haphazardly yelled at them to not break anything (they tried, they really did—it wasn't Sophie's fault that the vase just had to be right there). "I do," Sophie said hesitantly. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing!" Amy yelled way too conspicuously. "It’s just that it’s super cheap right now, and-" she trailed off. 

Sophie knew for a fact that it definitely wasn't cheap; the place was huge and everyone would be jumping to get at it. But, she hadn't seen her sister this nervous in forever, and it would be nice to see the place again, she had reasoned with herself. 

So, she agreed because god dammit her sister deserved something good. That was how they ended up standing next to the van, giving last minute hugs, and trading promises to see each other soon.

-

She was not panicking. There was no way that she was possibly panicking. Sophie "The Moonlark" fuckin’ Foster did not panic about something as simple as packing for a trip.

Except for the fact that she very much was. And it was very much not okay. 

"AMY!" she yelled, half stuck in her very small closet, as she stood on her tippy toes trying to reach the duffle bag stuffed in the very back. Why had she put it so far up? How had she put it so far up?

"AMY!" she called again. Where the hell was her sister? 

"WHAT!" Amy finally yelled back. 

"GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!" 

A few complaints and grumbles later Amy was standing at her side. "What do you want? I have to pack still," Amy said.

"That’s exactly what I want," Sophie bit back. Amy raised her eyebrow and Sophie groaned. "I mean, what am I even supposed to pack?"

"Clothes?"

"No shit. But like what else."

"Sophie what the fuck how long has it been since you went somewhere?"

"We went to Mari's literally last week!"

"So why don't you know how to pack?"

"Cause that was for like two days! This is two weeks!" Sophie yelled, desperately throwing her hands up in distress. 

Amy muttered something along the lines of "You are helpless," under her breath before grabbing the duffle out of Sophie's hands. "Come on, Soybean. We got shit to do."

"You know, saying my childhood nickname and a curse in the same sentence is really jarring." Amy huffed a laugh before tearing through Sophie's poor closet.

-

The van felt too large and too small all at the same time. Their bags were thrown haphazardly in the back, along with an outrageous amount of snacks. But even with everything there was still room. The thing that made it feel small was the silence. Amy's silence, to be more specific. The worst part was Sophie knew exactly what it was about.

Music drifted through the car, some random song about love feeling like a movie, and it made Sophie want to hit the radio with a hammer. Unfortunately, Amy would murder her if she even made a scratch on the poor van that was already falling apart. So, in a desperate attempt to ignore her relationship problems she changed the station. In the corner of her eye she could see Amy shake her head.

Sophie didn't ask for this, okay? So, it meant that she didn't have to deal with it if it was too much, right? 

She knew she was wrong. Watching the memories, listening in, thinking of the girl she loved as a threat because that’s what she was trained to do! The war was over but its scars were still there. 

She didn't need Amy's eye rolls, or her head shakes of disapproval, she didn't need Fitz's butting in. She didn't need it, okay! She knew. But dear God it hurt.

It hurt when Linh had kissed her that morning. It hurt when she didn't quite know what to do, if she was moving her mouth right, or if Linh could just see straight through her. Every mistake, every broken thought. Every stupid, stupid decision.

And then the question had to come out of Amy's mouth.

That stupid stupid question she had asked a million times over.

"Why do you keep doing it?"

She wanted to cry. Cry until her eyes were dry and her throat hurt and her insides cracked. Because that's what she was, wasn't she? Cracked. Shattered. Broken. Sophie didn't know why she lied. Why she went into the girl who she swore she loved, business. Why couldn't she just stop? Why not?

"I don't know," she said truthfully. Her voice was roughed and scratchy and wrong. 

Amy sighed, "You know I love you. But you've got to tell her. Sooner or later, it’s just gonna tear you to shreds. And we both know you elves don’t do good with guilt."

"No, we don't," Sophie chucked bitterly. 

They settled into uneasy silence after that. For once though, Sophie found herself agreeing with Amy. She needed to tell Linh. They were a ticking time bomb, only good for broken hearts and massive collateral damage.

-

The cabin was exactly how she remembered it. Old wood, old beams, old memories. Glass windows that covered the towering walls, trees that went as far as the eye could see. It was cozy, and Sophie felt small again. Like a little child waiting for her parents to come in carrying their suitcases as she jumped around yelling with all the energy in the world.

It felt like home, welcoming her back with open arms. And she couldn't be happier. 

Well, until Linh had to walk and reality came crashing down. 

And it didn't help that Linh looked good. She wasn't even wearing anything special, a cardigan over a crop top, some worn jeans and nice boots. Her hair had two short braids going around her head like a circlet and connecting in the back like a crown. Sophie hoped she could just die on the spot.

But she couldn't, because Amy was showing her upstairs to put their bags away in their old room (She and Linh weren't rooming together because Amy stated that she didn't want anything gross to happen. She was lying, and Sophie would be eternally grateful for that). 

Sighing, she turned to go up the stairs, finally dragging her gaze away from Linh to haul the bags to their rightful spots. 

After the bags were thrown lazily on the bed Sophie resisted the urge to unpack them just so that she could put it off for longer. So she made her way down the stairs, quietly asked Linh if she would meet her on the porch, and opened the door with a heavy sigh.

The lights were low—in any other circumstance it should have been romantic. Well, it was romantic; to the blissfully unaware Linh. To Sophie it was ironic. 

She was cold, the air chilling her and it took everything in her to not wrap her arms around Linh's waist and bury her head into the crook of Linh's neck. Not right before spilling her guts. She promised Amy. Even if Linh hated her after, she had to do this. 

"I’m sorry." Okay, not a strong start, but still a start.

Linh tilted her head towards her, "Why?"

Her hands moved wildly in front of her, "I- everything."

"Love, you've gotta explain," Linh said, giving Sophie those stupid eyes that seemed to see right through her. 

Sophie sighed, she couldn't push this off any longer. The words fell out of her mouth like a waterfall, her hands following in stumbling movements. Tumbling out, overlapping each other, one not quite getting out fast enough before the next started. She squeezed her eyes shut as if she could block out the world and forget about what she had done, what she was saying, the look on Linh's face.

Oh god that look. 

Sophie didn't think she would ever forget it. 

When the words stopped, and her hands stilled and the world seemed to stop with them. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt her shoulders hunch involuntarily, folding in on herself. Part of her wished this was a fight she could win,the match ending with one of them on top and a blade to someone’s throat- because that Sophie knew. Not these emotions that she was taught to shove in a box. Emotions got in the way. They affected decisions. Honestly, Sophie thought she was free of that, being easily swayed like a tree in the wind by her own heart. 

But fear still controlled her.

It made her do things she regretted. Things she hated herself for. 

An iron grip that she couldn't escape.

The worst part about the entire situation was that Linh was silent. If there was one thing Sophie knew, it was that she was shit at reading body language. And seeing that that was the only thing she currently had to gauge Linh's reaction, Sophie was at a loss.

"What the fuck," Linh finally said, staring at the wood like she hoped it would help her. 

Sophie wished it would too. "I’m sorry," she whispered.

"Let me get this straight," Linh sighed. "You watched my memories without my permission, listened in on conversations that I had. And when Amy tried to tell you not to, you didn't listen."

Sophie gulped, "Yup."

"I'm sorry."

It took at least a minute for the words to process. Linh- why was Linh sorry? Sophie was sure the confusion was clear on her face because Linh smiled sadly before speaking again.

"I never meant to lie to you. About coming here when I said that I had been at that road house the entire time. I wanted to tell you I just- I didn't want to think about it, how I pushed everyone away. And when I saw you I saw a fresh start, someone I could be someone else with and I wanted that. So I pretended I was fine. I’m sorry that you had to find out on your own."

Sophie chuckled dryly, “God, we’re both so fucked up.”

Linh laughed quietly. “Do you think,” she said, “that if we didn’t go through everything we did, if you stayed and I didn’t push you away, would we have worked?”

Sophie didn’t like to think about what could’ve happened, a side effect of losing so many friends.She remembered a time that with one word she would burn down the world for Linh. “I think we were doomed to fail,” Sophie said sadly. Because in the end, she loved the idea of Linh and not the girl herself.

Linh only nodded and they both ignored the tears in their eyes. Just walk away, she told herself. it’s time to go now, just walk away.

And Sophie tried, tried to peel herself off that porch, but no matter how hard she pulled she was stuck. Staring at the girl she thought she loved, tears blurring her vision, her head spinning like she was the sun. 

Sophie just wanted to hold Linh because even if she didn’t love her like she thought she did, she still loved her in some way.

Linh’s head turned, her normally bright eyes that could light up the world were dull. There was no light behind them, and Sophie was haunted by the fact that it was eerily similar to the face she wore in the memory of bruised hands Sophie had watched.

In that moment Sophie wanted to take it all back. Her hands itched to hold Linh, to tell her that she didn't do anything wrong, to comfort her. But Sophie had lost that, lost the privilege to hold her. The realization hit her then (though she might have always known) that she didn't love this girl in the beginning. But spending nights together, realizing who Linh was again, she believed she loved her like she had. It hurt a bit, but she’d known for a while that she had fallen again, but she couldn't take back what she did and that had to be okay. 

They stood there a while longer, tears staining both their cheeks, knowing eventually the moment would have to end. It was all gonna be over. It felt like leaving all over again and this time Sophie didn't have the strength to walk away—but Linh did. She left, pulling her hands away from the railing, leaving Sophie to stand in the slowly falling snow alone (she didn't know when it had started, or when the tears in her eyes were colder than normal, tasting like ice on her tongue). 

Eventually, the cold forced her back inside. She found Amy waiting on the couch in the 'Great Hall' (a.k.a. Living Room 2 out of three). There was a book in her hand that dropped as soon as Sophie wandered pitifully into her sister's line of sight.

"Hey," Amy whispered as Sophie put her head in her lap.

"Hi," Sophie responded.

"Hello?" Fitz spoke from the doorway, voice startling both of them.

Sophie still didn't move, barely glancing back at him to see his eyebrow raised. 

"Is she good?" Fitz asked.

"They broke up," Amy supplied when Sophie didn't give an answer.

"That explains why Tam's lookin’ like he's gonna commit murder." Sophie groaned in response, only burying her head further from view and into the blanket. She heard Fitz leave, expecting him to leave her with Amy in her misery only for his footsteps to come back. "Oh yes gimme," Amy said above her, hand leaving Sophie's hair. 

"Nope, it’s for the depressed dumbass." Sophie raised her head to see Fitz grinning. The next thing she knew she was lifted off of the couch, trying to hold onto something, only for Fitz to slip under her and throw her over him and Amy. "There you go, you cat," Fitz laughed and handed her a tub of ice cream. 

At some point the tub of ice cream would become empty, and at some point reality would come crashing down again and she would cry. In the arms of her sister and her best friend. At some point she would fall asleep to be woken up by a knock on the door. But right then she would grin, with Amy's hand in her hair and Fitz trying to decide what movie they should watch. Right then she would feel loved.

-

Someone was banging on the front door and Sophie was about two seconds from committing murder. It wasn't the knocks that had woken her up--no, it was that they meant Fitz was getting up, which meant he had to let go of her, which made her follow him around like a lost puppy because dammit he gave good cuddles.

Sophie honestly didn't give a shit about who was at the door, just waiting for Fitz to open it so that they could go back to the couch and Moana, which was currently paused. What she did not expect was Marella, Keefe, and Dex to be standing outside the door with suitcases and matching grins.

Sophie was too tired for this.

The grins faded as soon as Fitz and Keefe locked eyes and the tension in the room rose. 

"You're- you're here-" Fitz said, his face painted with surprise. 

"I brought friends," Keefe responded. 

"Hello," Marella and Dex greeted.

"Hi," Sophie responded from behind Fitz, who was still locked in a staring contest with Keefe.

Finally, Keefe's eyes moved from Fitz and he grinned again when he saw her, "To be honest I'm not surprised that you and Biana set this up. Need a family reunion after a few years?"

"Biana?" Fitz and Sophie asked in unison. Neither of them had seen her since they had left. It made some part of Sophie queasy to think that Biana was left alone to deal with the council. 

"Yeah? She sent us invites and plane tickets?" Marella spoke up, her eyebrows  knitted together. 

"I had no idea about those," Sophie said. "I haven't heard from Biana since I left. For all I know she's back in the Lost Cities."

"Actually-" a voice with a thick accent came from behind her. For a moment Sophie thought it was Fitz until a flash of light and long brown hair came into view on her left. "Hi," Biana grinned.

Five minutes later the Great Hall was packed with Sophie's friends who she thought she wouldn't see for at least another eight years. But here they were; Marella, Dex and Keefe crammed on a couch, Linh avoiding her eyes as she and Tam talked in hushed tones, Fitz anxiously opening and closing his hands next to her, and Amy and Biana talking in the middle of the room in harsh whispers.

Honestly? Sophie was done with the avoidance of the elephant in the room. "Are you guys going to explain what the hell is going on or?" Sophie finally asked, her exasperation clear. 

"WE'RE HERE!" came from the doorway, a clear answer to Sophie's question. Dex's face paled at the voice, clearly recognizing its owner.

"Biana, Amy," Dex started, staring at the girls in the center of the room with a look of pure terror on his face. "Why, in the Ancients names, are they here?" 

"Sup, bitch," Bex walked through the door, her lips pulled into a smug grin. 

Dex's head fell into his hands with a groan that only got longer when his other two siblings joined them. The triplets weren't all that surprising. Unexpected, until you took into the account that this was probably some elaborate prank that would most definitely have the triplets involved. 

The surprise, though, was the mop of curly brown hair and almost-purple eyes that walked in after them with a fond look of exasperation. Stina Heks was not someone who Sophie thought would be involved in this.

Tam shared her look of confusion, "Will somebody please tell us what the fuck is going on?"

That got a laugh out of the triplets and Amy, while Biana smiled and Stina looked bored. That wasn't much of a surprise, the bored face of Stina was one Sophie knew well (mostly from having to stare at it for hours during Valiant meetings, trying desperately for her to understand that she didn't have a choice to fight like she did). If anything, it was comforting to know she hadn't changed much.

"I don’t even know where to start," Biana said, and Amy laughed awkwardly.

"The beginning," Sophie deadpanned just wishing this would be over so that she could wallow in self pity in peace.

"Well..." Biana trailed off.

"This was a project to get your dumbasses together," Bex started.

Dex looked moderately distressed as he whispered, "Language", which only got an eye roll in response.

"We started it after you three left," Lex said pointing towards Marella, Dex and Keefe, who looked only mildly uncomfortable.

“Because all of you thought that the only way of coping was running away,” Rex finished. The room erupted in a cacophony of half finished excuses before Biana raised her hand, a pointed look on her face. 

“And that was fine! For a while,” she started. “I kept tabs on you to make sure y’all didn’t do anything stupid, until I realized what the heck was going on with Linh-“ 

“Oh great,” Linh growled every head swivling to her in surprise, “another person who doesn’t know how to respect some fucking privacy!” Linh had stood as she spose, anger clear on her face. A sharp pang of guilt found itself stabbing at Sophie’s heart.

“Please, I just wanted to look out for you-“

“Oh shut up. You were doing it so you could feel good about yourself picking up some goddamn charity cases!” With almost every word Linh took a step forward, getting into Biana’s space with a snarl. “Well guess what. I was doing fine until you fucked with my life.”

“Linh-“ Tam called after her as she stormed out of the room. With a sigh he looked back at all the stunned faces; most of them had never seen Linh angry. “I’m sorry, she’s just had a bad day. I’ll go talk to her,” he said before following her out. 

“Christ,” Marella murmured, watching the door. 

The feeling of guilt only grew bigger at that knowing that she was the reason for the outburst. That her stupid fucking instincts could’ve-

“Soph,” Fitz whispered. “Sophie, look at me.” 

She really really didn’t want to. But there was a soft urgency in his voice that made her look. “It’s not your fault, you came clean. How Linh deals with that is entirely up to her, okay?”

Sophie wanted to say that she shouldn't have done anything in the first place but stopped herself. She couldn't go down that rabbit hole, not then not ever. 

Biana sighed, and her shoulders seemed to drop before she started again. "I'm sorry for watching you guys, I tried to stay out of most things just making sure y’all didn't, like, go to jail or fuck up a government or something," she said slowly. 

"Bi," Fitz said, older brother instincts clearly kicking in, "it's okay. We tried to drop off the face of the earth-- we didn't exactly expect you to walk away unaffected."

Murmurs of agreement rang out through the room and slowly Biana’s hunched form seeped away to her normal stance. 

Amy picked up the story. “We realized that you guys weren’t getting better and that frankly the Lost Cities were getting worse.” 

“We might’ve not done it in the best way,” Lex said. “But you guys needed each other. All of you were hiding under facades with a false belief  that you were getting better and it was feeding into the idea to run away. So all we did was point you guys to each other, a little nudge to the right spot.” 

“Oh,” Fitz said next to Sophie as realization dawned on both of them.

“OH MY GOD I WAS RIGHT!” Sophie said as soon as it all made sense. It was all planned! She wasn’t going crazy with paranoia (okay, maybe she was going slightly crazy, but that wasn’t the point)! 

All she got was raised eyebrows and a snort from Amy as a response to her outburst. 

“A little nudge?” Keefe asked. “You literally sent us a weird ass note with plane tickets and money so that we could be here—not very subtle of you.”

“Look, we were working off of what we had-“ Rex spoke, trying to hold in a laugh.

“Very cryptic, good job guys,” Marella laughed.

“Wait okay,” Sophie started. “Was Tam and Fitz ending up at Mari’s planned?”

Bex laughed and Amy grinned, “Nope! That woman just attracts strays somehow.”

Sophie and Fitz shared a knowing smile, remembering how she took them in with no hesitation. 

“One last question: why are you here?” Dex asked, gesturing to Stina.

“I’m moral support,” the girl answered with a shrug, and no one questioned it.

“Keefe- Keefe you can’t fall asleep. It’s only four pm,” Marella said suddenly, shaking the boy's shoulder slightly. 

“But I’m so fucking tired,” Keefe whined.

“Jet lag my beloathed,” Fitz chuckled, and Sophie felt it rumble through his body. 

“Okay sleepy heads,” Biana smiled, because no matter how hard Dex and Marella tried to pretend they weren’t tired their eyes were clearly dropping. "Go to bed, grab a room upstairs that isn't taken." 

"Dinner's at six!" Fitz called out after them and Sophie vaguely wondered if he would make one of Mari's recipes. 

Fitz did actually end up making one of Mari's recipes, a simple chicken and waffles with hashbrowns and bacon. An odd thing to have for dinner, but when it tasted heavenly who was gonna complain?  The smell carried through the house, dragging the occupants to the kitchen with growling stomachs.

Honestly, the sight was delicious and Sophie wanted nothing more than to just smack her face into it like an animal. It looked really good, okay? It was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

It was not, Sophie found out as she basically devoured a chicken strip in one bite, only to find the others looking at her in bewilderment (except for Linh, who was ignoring her existence).

"Jeez, it’s like you have never eaten before," Biana laughed.

Sophie considered throwing a chicken strip at her but held back for the sake of keeping her food to herself.

Meaningless conversation started after that. A million and one questions about where they all ended up, how they got there, all that. It was all fine for a while, Sophie mostly tuning out conversations and trying oh so desperately to keep her eyes off of Linh (she was only moderately failing). It all started to go downhill when some not so subtle giggles erupted from what Sophie had dubbed as the childrens’ end of the table.

The next thing Sophie knew, Keefe was getting smacked in the face with a waffle.

Predictably, chaos broke out after the declaration of war. Sophie chucked a piece of chicken at who she thought was Biana only to be hit in the face with a handful of hashbrowns. Dex, Marella, and Keefe seemed to be teaming up against the triplets—who were absolutely wild. And then Fitz and Biana were on the other side of the table pelting her and Amy with whatever they could get their hands on, Linh was helping the triplets. Tam and Stina stood off to the side, presumably judging them but Sophie didn’t care because she knew that they didn’t hate them until—

A loud smack rang out.

Silence covered the room as everyone’s heads turned to Tam,who had a waffle slowly dripping down his face. In that moment, Keefe looked scared shitless. Slowly, Tam took the waffle off his face, grabbed the tray full of bacon and without hesitation launched it at Keefe with deadly accuracy. Marella was screaming “man down,” the triplets and Amy were cackling, Linh was grinning (Sophie forced herself not to look), and Sophie had never felt more content.

The fight came to an end as everyone’s exhaustion started to show. Giggling like madmen, the large group stumbled their way up the stairs to their respective rooms. Sophie, too tired to think and walking on autopilot, started to follow Linh like a lost puppy to their room. It was their room, right? 

A hand on her arm stopped her. 

The feeling of watching Linh leave, watching Linh yell, saying that she didn't think they would've ever worked, came crashing down on her. Knocking the wind out of her, making her choke. 

With a sad smile Amy dragged her back to their room, handing her pjs, getting her to the bathroom and holding her as she cried. They ended up on the stupidly large bed, Amy running a comforting hand through Sophie's too-long hair, as the moon rose, and the stars watched.

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #fitz vacker #sophie foster #biana vacker #amy foster #kotlc amy #dex dizznee #keefe sencen #linh song #marella redek #lex dizznee #rex dizznee #bex dizznee #jesus how many fucking character tags must i use #the entire dizznee family is here jeez #kotlc fic #tater writes #finding home

[peach-the-owl]

Far From Home pt. 2

Vox Machina & Child!Reader

Might not completely follow canon but I kept it as close as I could and I apologize in advance if the characters aren’t accurate either as I’m not fully familiar with campaign 1, but anyways… PART 2 HAS FINALLY ARRIVED!!! If you haven’t yet, find part 1 here

Hold onto your hats, this is a long one

Salda rushes towards the opening but keeps herself back enough to avoid the rain that you could now see pouring in.

"Whoever you are, leave! Run away or I-I swear I’ll kill you!" Her voice wavered slightly, but she held her ground holding out her blade threateningly. You hear a bit of murmuring before one of the voices from above speaks just loud enough for you to hear from your position.

"Sherri it’s us!" There’s a few other voices but they were softer and harder to make out the words of, Salda then looks over her shoulder.

"Sherri?"she calls for the half-elf, who cautiously makes her way over looking up once she's close enough.

"My god. Come in quick, please." Sherri starts ushering in the new arrivals who all made their way into this little bunker. What a colourful bunch they were, these must’ve been the friends Gilmore had mentioned to you while searching through the city. It seemed the other kids knew who they were as their faces lit up in both hope and recognition to this group. You decided to stay quiet and as out of sight as possible for now not wanting to draw attention to yourself as you were still grappling with your whole being lost in time problem.

"I don’t believe my husband made it… But we're alive." You still listen in on the conversation to try and distract yourself though.

"Did you see him fall?" The male half-elf, dressed in all black asks.

"No," Salda pauses a second, "he-he saved us." You did feel a little left out since you had helped too but then again you were a stranger to these people and still didn’t feel the need to involve yourself in the conversation. They all look over to where Gilmore was laying and the male half-elf immediately rushes to him placing a hand under his chin and quickly inspecting the wounded area.

"Pike! Pike, Keyleth come over here!" He says with urgency. A gnome with white hair quickly steps forward, you could only assume this was Pike since Keyleth was a more elvish name. The other two half-elves in the group also step in quickly helping to patch up the wound, you weren’t sure which of those two was supposed to Keyleth but honestly that wasn’t the biggest concern right now. Pike places her hands on her holy symbol and you watch as light emits from it before gently placing her hands on Gilmore the light transferring from her hands into his body. The room is illuminated as the magic heals the nasty wound on Gilmore, you take a quick look around and see the half-orc that's with the party now staring at you. There’s a small thud that draws your attention back to Gilmore as the magic had finished its job, he curls over a little before the male half-elf carefully places him on his lap.

"Is he alright?! Is he alright?" Sherri asks, looking over and placing on her glasses.

"I think so." The male half-elf responds softly, Sherri then notices that half-orc with them.

"Who's this one? What’s he doing here?" She questions with a threatening tone. The others mumble over there words a bit until the male gnome gives a proper responce.

"He’s a friend, he fought with us. He’s… he's not corrupted by the dragons influence."

"If I could know your name orcish sir."

"It’s really cool." The gnome quickly adds.

"I’m Garthok." The half-orc gives a bow.

"Keep your distance, I don’t trust you yet." She gives him a weary side look.

"Of course," he then turns to Salda as Sherri directs her attention back onto Gilmore. "If I may ask you, I don’t recall you having four children." You raise your head up seeing now that all eyes have turned to you making you feel a little uneasy as you try to press yourself into the wall more.

"They're not mine. But they helped in our rescue too." Salda comments. There’s more chatter amongst the group as the white haired gnome now walks over to you.

"Hello there." Her voice is gentle and sweet, easing away some of the fear and tension that you’ve built up. You give a soft greeting back and wait for her to speak again. "My name's Pike, what’s your name?"

"I’m (y/n), it’s nice to meet you Pike." You hold your hand out for her to shake making her notice the concerning burns and bruises on you.

"Oh, you poor child. Here let me help." She takes your hand and once again you see a soft light emit from her, though defiantly not as strong as what she used to heal Gilmore. The small light travels from her hand into yours making its way up your arm and to the rest of your body, you instantly feel a lot better and a little more energized as the burns and bruises slowly disappear. Pike then helps you to your feet and you both scuffle back over towards everyone else. You sit yourself down again and try to get a better look at the still unconscious Gilmore quickly noticing the stares from the male half-elf.

"We were told you were the one who ran back in to save him. Is this true?" He questions, gaining your full attention. He had a bit of an intimidating look to himself but you were used to people like that, having travelled around with Beau and Yasha so much.

"I mean he saved me from being crushed so I owed him… I guess? But mostly he was in a lot of trouble, someone had to help." You scratch the back of your head sheepishly, not sure how to explain yourself pausing in your actions and redirecting your attention when you feel his hand on your shoulder.

"Thank you." He gives you a small but genuine smile of gratitiude, you return the gesture with your own small smile.

"What’s your name mister?" You suddenly ask, now realizing you never got it. He gives a soft, feathery laugh at your newfound curiosity.

"Call me Vax."

"Hi Vax, I’m (y/n)." If you paid close attention you could see his smile rise slightly. There’s a cough and the attention was switched back to Gilmore as he slowly regained consciousness. His head lulls back and you can see him smile a little as his eyes train onto Vax's.

"Ah… it's always what I’d assume I’d see in my last moments." He give a soft chuckle mixed with light coughing.

"Bad day, huh."

"Strangely enough I’m pretty sure I’ve had worse." You catch yourself giggle a little at his comment.

"No offence darling but you look like shit." The one who spoke looked a lot like Vax, you could easily conclude they were siblings, probably twins if you really had to guess.

"We can’t have that can we." He then raises his hand, attempting to conjure some magic but a fit of coughs causes it to sputter away. He pauses a second to regain his breath. "Sooo, either we're all dead or all alive… I’d like an answer."

"Alive." The female Vax answers, you were really curious what her name was now mostly so you wouldn’t have to keep thinking of her as female Vax.

"Good, I was hoping you’d say that." Gilmore let’s out a halfhearted laugh before continuing. You zoned out a little since the conversation wasn’t really directed at you and looked at the different members of this group. You already knew who Pike and Vax were as well as the half-orc Garthok, then there was Vax's twin, next to her was the other half-elf who looked like some sorta forest princess to you, then there was the big goliath and the fanciful gnome you could tell was defiantly a bard, and finally the nicely dressed man with glasses and silver hair. You wondered if they could help you get back to your time, but then again was it really a good idea to tell them you were actually from the future? They might think you’re crazy, plus they already had a lot on their plate with these dragons now roaming around so you decided it was best to keep your mouth shut for now. You notice the other kids had tears screaming down their faces, from what you picked up in the background it could only be because of their fathers fate. You scoot over towards them and tap Illiya's shoulder, she looks at you with red puffy eyes.

"I’m sorry that happened." She nods a little and you end up giving her a hug, the other two joining in to gain some form of ground and comfort.

"After finding this little one here, I went to the dragon just in case you’d been your usual foolish selves and run into hell itself." You chimed back into the conversation when you hear this, seeing Gilmore turn to look at you. "Suppose I do have you to thank as well, for me still being here."

"Well… I couldn’t just leave you there, and you saved me too. It was only fair." You weren’t used to getting so much credit for something since it was always someone else from the Nein who'd end up coming in clutch for the rest of the team, it felt nice for sure but you also couldn’t help feel a little embarrassed too.

"This kid's got guts, I like 'em." The goliath says, they went on to ask questions to things you weren’t familiar with, also trying not to remember the many burnt and dead bodies you’d encountered when they asked Gilmore about other survivors. Going back to your own thoughts you battled with the idea of telling these strangers about your situation and if they could in any way help or simple wait it out and hope that when or if the spell wears off you’ll be sent back home no problem. After all it’s only been a day some spells last much longer then that, still though the sooner you could get home the better.

There's some movement as everyone starts to get up, you quickly follow along with everyone and start making your way up top. You follow the group soon noticing that Vax, his sister, the male gnome, and Garthok head off in one direction while everyone else head in another. The walk starts silent as you trudge through the muddy streets, rain pouring down on you. It would've been fine but you’d been sitting in silence all day and was getting tired of having your thoughts keep you down, plus you were curious about this group of adventurers you were with. With a deep breath and a feeling of courage you walk up to the half-elf.

"Are you a princess?" You let your curiosity break the ice, the woman stalls her movements slightly then looks down at you.

"S-sorry?" She seemed surprised, you ask your question again and she blinks a few times, processing your words. "I suppose I am, in a way. Why do you ask?"

"It’s just you look so pretty and you have this look of like a leader to you." She blushes at your comment and smiles, actually this may be the first time you’ve seen her smile since you met her.

"Well thank you. I’m Keyleth." She holds her hand out for you to shake. So this was the Keyleth mentioned earlier, that was good to know.

"It’s very nice to meet you, I’m (y/n)." You accept the handshake, already feeling a sense of comfort around her you walk along side her. "So who are your other friends?"

"You mean you don’t know?" She looked at you confused.

"Well," you pause a second and make sure what you say doesn’t reveal too much information yet. "I’m not from around here, so I don’t know that much." You say satisfied with your answer, it wasn’t like you were lying after all.

"Oh! Umm… well let’s see… you already know who Pike is I’m sure." You nod.

"And Vax." You quickly pipe in.

"And Vax," she repeats with confirmation, "then there’s his twin Vex."

"There names sound the same, that must be confusing."

"It can be sometimes. Now Vex has a pet bear named Trinket."

"She owns that cool bear!" You have to stop yourself from shouting with excitement while pointing at the armoured bear that’s been traveling with you, earning a small giggle from Keyleth.

"Yes, she does, he’s very friendly if you want to pet him later." You can hardly contain your smile, having something to look forward to after this conversation. Keyleth clears her throat a little to regain your attention. "Then there’s Scanlan, he’s the other gnome in our group and he’s really good at making up songs." You nod and let her continue. "Next is Percy over there," she points to the man with the silvery hair. "He’s had a lot to deal with recently so don’t mind him if he seems a little stand off-ish with you. There’s myself of course, and finally there’s Grog, he’s not the sharpest tool but he is the heaviest. Together we are Vox Machina." She finishes her explanation with a proud look on her face.

"That’s a really cool name, my friends have a cool name for our adventure group too." You stop realizing it may not have been wise to have said that last part aloud.

"You’re with another group? What do they call themselves?" She looks at you with genuine curiosity. Before you answer her a small group of individuals step out, armed with various blades.

"Hey! Drop your stuff! Give us what you’ve got." One starts, to which Keyleth leaves your side and socks them in the jaw. You hold back a laugh, that looked like something Beau would do. Sherri pulls out her wand and unleashes a bolt of lightning, blasting off a piece of nearby wall making it crumble to the ground. Gilmore supports his own weight for a moment and slowly raises his arm, bolts of arcane energy whipped around him making him look really cool and powerful.

"Do you gentlemen seriously wish to start this ruckus?" He says with a threatening tone, the men pause and share a look.

"No." They all sheath their weapons and scurry off again.

"Yeah you better run!" Keyleth shouts at the retreating forms.

"Yeah, you tell 'em Kiki." Grog compliments.

"Thank you. I’m trying to get better at it." She smiles at him. You were just glad you could avoid any conflicts, not wanting to deal with any at this time. You traverse through the streets some more seeing folks working to dig mass graves for the ones who perished, you avert your eyes from the sight having already seen enough death for one day. You walk over to the bear, Trinket if you remember correctly and he immediately gives you a sniff, puffing air into your face making you brighten up a little and pet him on the muzzle.

"Did you say secret passage!?" You hear a very excited Gren say eagerly, you perk up more at the idea of a secret passage too.

"I did! I did!" Keyleth replies with a smile at the boys excitement. "Did you want to go see it?" You get closer and start a little chant.

"Secret passage secret passage." Gren quickly joining in, even his sisters joined your little chant making Salda smile for the first time since you’d met her.

"We can't dissappoint the children." Keyleth looks to Grog expectantly.

"Fine. Secret passage it is." He says in a half-joking kinda way. You all make your way down through the secret passage, which wasn't as exciting as you thought I’d be but it did it’s job and you safely make it to the party's base. As you start making your way up and out of the passageway you see some attendants, who looked worked to the bone, come over and greet the party before turning to you and the other kids.

"Oh, and children. You’ve got children have ya." One kneels down, you shrink back a bit unable to hide behind someone for protection like the other three. You all walk into the next room where hundreds of others were already settled and the panic you’ve been setting aside this whole time crept in again. You didn’t know anyone here, what were you supposed to do now? It had already taken a lot of your courage to put blind trust in the people who brought you here but now they could easily walk away and you’d be left with no one. Not to mention you still had no idea how to get back to your own time. You could feel the tears pricking at the edges of your eyes and a few spill over.

"Hey, kid." You quickly wipe your eyes and look over to see that Percy had called your attention. "I have a few questions I’d like to ask you." You give a nod and follow him as he leads you away from the large group of people, well the entire place was crowded but you managed to find a less populated area. You shuffle in place a bit as you wait for him to speak again. "Alright first off, where did you come from?"

"Wh-what do you mean?" You give him a confused look, he sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose.

"I overheard you talking to Keyleth, you said you weren’t from around here. So where are you from?" You could tell he was trying to be patient with you, which you appreciated since you were sure he probably had other things he wanted to do.

"Oh! Ummm, well I’m from Wildemount."

"From Wildemount? How could child from Wildemount be here all alone, where are parents?" He gives you almost a suspicious look making you knaw at your lip, not sure if now was a good time to fess up about everything or not.

"Well that’s a long and, ummm… crazy story. You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you."

"Kid-"

"My name's (y/n)." You weren’t sure if that came off as rude but you figured he might as well know your name since you knew his.

"Right, (y/n) then, I have seen and done countless things in my life. So whatever it is you’re hiding may not be as crazy as you think." You take a deep breath and try to think of a good way to explain this.

"Ok, well my friend Caleb was working on a spell that I think shifts space and time or something but it went wrong and I wasn’t looking so I got hit with it and then I wake up in a place I never been in before and then dragons came out of nowhere so I ran then I met that nice man Gilmore and then I met you guys and I don’t know how to get home." You suck in some air after blurting it out in one breath, your well thought out explaination broken the second you opened your mouth the words just tumbling out. Percy just stares at you for a moment, maybe you spoke too fast for him to catch everything so you quickly add a shortened version to your story. "What I’m saying is I’m… from the future."

"Well you were right, I do find this crazy and I'm having a very hard time believing your story."

"It’s true though." You pout a little, you figured he wouldn’t believe you but he was the one to coax the story out of you in the first place.

"Percy! There you are." Vex ran over and embraces Percy, leaving you to stand there awkwardly. When she lets go of him she notices your presents. "Hello there darling." She gives you a kind smile.

"Hi, you’re Vex right?" You wanted to make sure you said the right name, she gives you a nod.

"Indeed I am, and you are?"

"I’m (y/n). I really like your bear." She laughs a little at your comment.

"He’s pretty great isn’t he," she then looks back to Percy. "What are you doing here with them, if I may ask."

"Well, (y/n) here says they're from Wildemount, which I can believe. What I don’t believe is their claim of being from the future." Percy explains.

"But it’s true, I’ve read stories that have mentioned a Gren, Illiya and Odessa Tal’Dorei but they’re much older in those stories then they are here." Even with your attempt at an explanation neither looked like they really believed you.

"Well, truth or not I have question of my own for you." You look at Vex and wait for her to continue. "You were with Gilmore when he went to face the Cinder King, what I’d like to know is if you saw anything that may have been odd or different about about this dragon. I know it’s a lot to ask you but anything will do if you saw something." You dig though your thoughts trying to think if there was anything at all, then you remeber something you did catch before the dragon was out of view.

"Uhhh, there was his weird belly scales."

"What about them would you say was weird?" Vex crouches down to your height and gives you a patient look, you try really hard to rummage with your thoughts to figure out why they looked weird to you not wanting to let these people down for some reason.

"Oh! I think it was because they didn’t look like real scales, they looked more like armour trying to protect something… I mean, I think so anyways. Sorry, I know it’s not a lot."

"No no darling, you’re doing fine." She gives you a calming smile. "So you think he’s wearing armour that look like scales in order to protect something, is that right?" You nod and she gives you a gentle pat on the head. "Good to know, that could be very helpful in the future."

"Speaking of future, I need to find a way back home." They both look to you and Percy gives a sigh.

"This again-" he’s cut off by Vex lightly smacking him in the gut.

"Percy," she gives him a look, "the least we can do is help this poor child reunite with their family." He looks between you and her for a second then nods.

"You’re right. Maybe Pike can help if magic is indeed involved." The two of them then lead you to a sorta chapel area where some people were bowed in deep prayer while others seemed to just be using the space to sleep for the night. You find Pike in front of a statue of a feminine figure you'd never seen before, you were positive they were some sort of goddess though. She turns to face you upon hearing your approach.

"Hi guys, what can I do for you?" She greets the three of you. Percy gives a quick summery of what you'd told him to her and she places a hand under her chin in thought. "You know, actually that could explain the strange magical aura I felt around them when I touched their hand."

"Really?!" You, Vex and Percy all say at once, yours was more in excitement while theirs was in shock.

"Do you think you could reverse it and send me home?" You happily ask, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Pike turns to you and gives you a faint smile.

"I could, but you’re gonna have to wait until tomorrow. I already used a lot of my divine magic today." You deflate a little with a sigh but nod in understanding, Pike places a hand gently on your shoulder. "It’ll be ok, I promise you’ll be back where you belong before you know it." She reassures and a small smile returns to you with those words. As the evening draws to a close you decide to stay in the little chapel for the night, it’s a bit of a struggle but you do eventually drift off to sleep.

Sunshine peeking through the windows cause you to wince as you awaken with a yawn and stretch out your limbs. Taking a look around you were still in the chapel, others there still waking themselves up, were already awake or bowed in prayer. The doors open and you bring your attention to the group you’d met yesterday walking in.

"I’m just saying if this child really is from the future, like you said, then they must know what 'appens." You hear the goliath say.

"Here’s the thing Grog, they’re from Wildemount they most likely don’t know Tal'Doren (don’t know if that’s the correct term) history, and what purpose would we have going there?" Percy argues, you slowly get up off the bench you’d been sleeping on and approach them.

"Good morning," Keyleth addresses you, "you ready to finally go home." You respond by eagerly nodding.

"Wait! Before anything else, I have to know… am I known worldwide in the future?" You blink a few times at the male gnomes question.

"I’m sorry, what was your name again?" This gets a few laughs from the other members as he gives a sigh of defeat but quickly brightening up again.

"I am the great Scanlan Shorthalt, ring any bells now?" You try to think if you’ve heard or seen that name anywhere before.

"You know I think I have seen your name on a book before. But I never got to read it, my friends were busy and we couldn’t stay in the shop long but I’m sure I saw a book with your name on it." This seemed to brighten him up more before he’s pulled away by Vax and Pike steps forward.

"Ready to go?" She asks sweetly. Once again you nod eagerly. "Okay, here goes." She starts casting a spell and you feel your body start to tingle a little, your arms starting to shimmer. The light around you glows brighter and brighter.

"If you have time, you should come and visit some time in the future!" You weren’t able to tell who said that as your vision goes white………

When your able to open your eyes again your back in the Xhorhaus, you pick yourself up off the floor and hear a loud squee as your tackled into a hug.

"Oh my gosh, (y/n) your back! We were soooo worried about you!" It was so reliving to hear Jesters bubbly voice again. Her shouts of joy alert the rest of the Nein as they rush to your location and instantly start bombarding you questions, they quickly die down noticing your lack of responce. You feeling overwhelmed with relief and joy just start bawling your eyes out, no longer containing all the tears you’d been holding back. They quickly realize now wasn’t the time for questions and settle with bringing you into a comforting group hug which you return. You were so happy to finally be home, but you couldn’t help but wonder about that other adventuring group you’d met, Vox Machina is what they’d called themselves right? You wondered what happened to them, sure for you it’s maybe been a minute but it’s been maybe over 20 years since they’d met you. Did they even remeber you? Maybe one day you’ll get a chance to find out, but right now you savoured in the moment of being home.

#critical role #vox machina #vax'ildan #vex'ahlia #cr grog #pike trickfoot #scanlan shorthalt #percy de rolo #keyleth #mighty nein #the mighty nein #caduceus clay #caleb widogast #jester lavorre #fjord #fjord stone #nott the brave #yasha nydoorin #beauregard lionett #mollymauk tealeaf #nothing romantic here #vox machina & reader #critical role & reader #mighty nein & reader

[indigobackfire]

Phoenix Lazar Nobleworth Silverwood

Below is a lengthy history of his parents, their involvement with dragons, and how he lost them.

Ps: I tried adding some Scottish dialect in the dialogue, but I'm not the best at it considering all I have as reference is my love for James McAvoy and Outlander. Forgive me in advance for any atrocities lol. Also, diverging from canon especially in relation to Veela powers and physical descriptions.

Phoenix's father, Emilian, was sorted into Gryffindor and with pride, he was a Gryffindor by the book, adventurous, brave, often reckless, fun, with a strong sense of protection over his friends, someone who valued courage and honor.

Emilian didn't know how he and Palmer Silverwood - Slytherin, pureblood, much more popular than him, and one of the best duelists in their year - became friends, he also didn't know how Palmer found an about to hatch dragon egg in the forbidden forest, or how he even got into the forbidden forest to begin with, but being who he was, Emilian wasn't much surprised.

The biggest surprise was that Palmer even knew who he was.

Emilian takes a peek into Palmer's robes where the egg is hidden. "So? You're the dragon laddie, Nobleworth."

"Yeah, it's a dragon egg. Common Welsh Green this one." He looks up. "And is that what people call me?"

"Are ye really surprised? You talk about them all the time, yer the best in Care of Magical Creatures, and ye have a dragon painted at the back of yer bloody robes."

"Only fair. McGonagall hates it."

Palmer laughs. "Will ye help me?"

"Aye. But what ye want me to do?"

"I dinna ken. I just don't want the wee dragon to die. The poor creature wasn't warm when I found it so it's probably motherless. I mean... they fire up their eggs, don't they?"

Emilian smiles. "You're not as unknowledgeable as you think, Silverwood. Let's go somewhere more private."

In the humid and dusty air of the artifact room, they hide. "Hand me the egg."

Palmer hands him the egg delicately as if the creature inside it wasn't one that could eat them both in a bite when grown. And for a moment Palmer wonders what he'll do, but Emilian just stands there holding the egg. And as he's about to question him, he sees Emilian's fingers get bright red.

"Mate? What's wrong with yer hands?"

Emilian snickers. "I have a secret, can you keep it?" Palmer nods eyes fixated on the egg whose cracks were very slowly growing. "I'm half Veela and whilst I can't throw balls of fire from my hands... I can heat it up to... oven temperature."

"Oven temperature?"

Emilian smirks. "Ah dinnae have exact numbers, but if ye want to give a touch."

Palmer looks at his hands again. "Nae. They're as bright as molten glass, lad."

Emilian raises his eyebrows. "Oh, I felt it move."

"Ooohh, it's gonna set this tiny room on fire."

"Let me hide it this time. I ken a place we can go. The person ye should've gone to in the first place."

Palmer widens his eyes. "Kettleburn, nae."

"Silverwood, ye cannae keep the dragon. It'll set you on fire before completing one year."

Palmer puffs as they walk out of the artifact room. "If the dragon enthusiast dinnae want to keep a real dragon, why would I?"

"A dragon lover is the same as a bee lover. You can appreciate the honey, the lovely stripes, but if ye hold it in yer hand, it'll sting you. Dragons were made to live outside, flying, spitting fire. A wee dragon is cute, but once is grown..."

"Yer a curious lad, Nobleworth." Emilian gives an awkward half smile. "I like you."

Their friendship was as unexpected to them as it was for the bystanders, but one that sustained for their last two years in Hogwarts - including Palmer's girlfriend, Clarin, an uptight but curious Ravenclaw, who despite her best instincts followed behind on the boys' adventures.

When Emilian announced he would be leaving England for the Dragon Sanctuary in Romania a couple of years later, as much as Palmer and Clarin expected that to happen, it still came with the bittersweetness of watching one of their best friends go.

Years go by, but still, their bond sustains time and distance. Every opportunity they had, the SIlverwoods would travel to Romania to visit their friend who in a lighting in a bottle chance found himself a wife of "his kind".

Full Veela, Antonia Lazar, practically raised herself as her father left her mother, a temperamental full Veela woman, to deal with Tonia herself, a task she delegated to her equally careless family members, closely involved with the Dragon Sanctuary in times the place was still informally managed.

When Emilian meets her, barely wearing rags over her body, barefoot on the grass, pearl blonde hair unruly, looking as if she was raised by wild house elves, he couldn't help his heart hammering in his chest. Female Veela beauty wasn't something he was unused to, considering his mother and aunts were ones as well, but when Antonia was before him he thought of himself before a goddess.

Emilian tries not to spill the water in the heavy buckets while Antonia doesn't seem to be struggling at all. He wouldn't have a need to even carry them if he hadn't forgotten his wand, but at least he got to be alone with her.

"Why is it that ye dinnae like us?"

"You English think you run the place just because you read about dragons in a book, think you know more than us who grew with hundreds of them." She shoots him firey eyes. "Know when I first rode a dragon? I was five years old!"

"I never say I doubted yer capacities. And I'm not English, I'm Scottish." She glares at him again. "I'm kidding."

"Don't get me angry, you won't like it me angry. Trust me."

"I would actually. I wonder what color yer feathers would be."

"I'm sorry?"

"I ken a Veela when I see one. Especially cause I'm half one."

Her expression soothes a little. She puts the bucket down and grips his hand. "Go, do your magic."

While his hand goes as hot as they can, his eyes slowly change hues to match her, never breaking eye contact. "It's nice touching a girl who doesn't mind a more... ardent touch."

She gives a small smile. "You're pathetic."

"I'd love to fly on a dragon's back with someone who understands about them. I promise I'm not here to mock or doubt you. I love those creatures more than anyone I know."

She lets go of his hand and with a smirk picks up the bucket. "Well, now you know me."

Their relationship quickly becomes stronger as they spend day after day together. The work at the Sanctuary is as rewarding as it is tiring, so at the end of long days, they would sit together and exchange stories, her of her buckwild childhood and him of his years in Hogwarts. In each other's company that they find an air of normality and peace.

After recognizing and accepting her strong feelings for Emilian - something hard considering how men had treated her before, seeking what she had to offer them more than considering her needs - and finding out he felt the same for the longest time, they decided to marry, her seeing in him a sense of stability for the first time in her life.

It doesn't take long until Antonia is pregnant with their first child, and in the pool of genes and possibilities, their first-born boy is a full Veela like his mother, something uncommon for boys. Not considering what would be 'formal' or well accepted, Antonia decides to name him Phoenix for encompassing what being a Veela means to her, a bird of elegance and fire and perseverance.

And as if it was pre-destined, just a couple months prior, Clarin and Palmer had given birth to a girl of name just as uncommon, little Indigo Silverwood, who is but three months old when they come to Romania to meet little Phoenix.

To this day, the Silverwoods wonder if their timing was the best or worst it could've been.

As in the same week they came to visit, an attack happens with the intent of capturing as many dragons as they could from the reserve, something that had happened times before but this time much better planned and heavily armed with the best wizards they could get.

They start picking up their wands in haste while seeking the fire protection potion they had brewed specially for this trip back at home. "What do they need dragons for? Can't they breed their own." Clarin asks.

"Is not like is legal or easy to do so." Antonia has her eyes soaked with tears. "They don't care about the creatures, they want money. Oh, they use their blood to make spot removers. Oven cleaners! How can you take a marvelous creature and turn it into such a pathetic thing? Then they use their hearts in you wizards stupid wands and their skin into gloves!"

"Somebody must have heard about the new Chinese Fireball," Emilian says, "People seek the gold in their horns and eggs, but if you pull them out, they die."

"Not to mention the baby Romanians. Put your goddamn boots on already, Emilian!"

"What 'bout the bairns?" Palmer asks anxiously.

"There's no time. They probably ain't getting all the way up here, but in all cases." Emilian grabs the potion from Clarin's hands turning over Jacob's and baby Indigo's mouth, knowing the fire wouldn't do harm to Phoenix. He places something in Jacob's little hand. "Jacob, if any mean person comes trying to hurt ye, throw this at their feet and run. Alright?" Jacob nods, eyes wide with fear and excitement of a five-year-old.

"What is it?" Palmer asks.

"A vial of Peruvian's Vipertooth venom, extremely deadly and volatile. Don't ask me why I have it."

Palmer looks at Jacob. "Stay quiet and protect the babies, right, love?"

Antonia kisses Phoenix on the forehead one last time then turns to the others. "Let's go, please!"

And if they knew, she would've held him a little longer, Emilian would've stopped time for a couple of seconds to look at their boy for a lingering moment more. But they didn't and time never reversed.

They weren't the only lives lost, but side by side they fought and won and lost and lost and lost. They managed to protect all but two of the dragons at the end, blood of dark wizards - and innocent ones - soaked the grounds. Dragons loose on the sky overhead, blood spilt from both sides, burnt buildings, scars that would never heal, the body of a friend devoided of life, a mother of dragons and children never to wake up again, children crying in a cabin kilometers away.

When Antonia's mother refused to watch over her own grandson, Clarin felt as if it was her own son the woman refused and it was that soon the decision to keep him came. She was still breastfeeding and no ordinary family would know how to raise him right, at least that's what both her and Palmer told themselves. Emilian's parents, both devastated by the news of their son's death were quick to agree with the Silverwoods' proposal.

And it's like this that Phoenix and Indigo are practically raised as twins, still young when he notices he doesn't look like the rest of them - a pale and blonde boy in a family of tanned brunettes - not only for his looks but by the fact that sinking his hand into a pot of boiling water doesn't hurt or the fact his anger makes his body react differently from the others or that people got mesmerized by his looks enough to do whatever he asked them to.

But the Silverwoods learn the painful way that raising a Veela child is not easy work. Not only easily irritable but also dangerous when transformed, not much to others while still young, but to himself due to painful and harmful transformation, taking hours until he could retain his human form. Meditating and thought exercises became pivotal from an early age. As not make their treatment towards him different from Indigo, they become tougher with both, demanding an altruistic, patient, and empathetic behavior from both.

This leads Phoenix to grown into a level-headed, sweet and compassionate boy who eventually got sorted into Hufflepuff without the sorting hat having to consider long.

As much as he wishes he had grown with his biological parents, he's grateful to have grown in the family he did and doesn't consider himself any less part of it, he loves his siblings dearly and considers and reslects his parents as if it was from their blood and cells he was made of.

---

This is my attempt at a concise history of Phoenix, mostly his parents who I dream of drawing someday. I'll make something in the future for his romantic life as it is its own ride. I ship him with Ismelda and boy oh boy I have some to say about that.

If you wanna more info on Phoenix, I made him an OC profile :)

#mi artita #phoenix nobleworth #fanfic? #oc backstory #hufflepuff #dragons are in it too #an attempt at scottish sounding dialogue #i cant draw clothes for sht #or poses #or hair #help #hphm #hogwarts mystery

[elderbloodlore]

Calanthe was not a racist homicidal tyrant: a useless and bitter rant of someone whose favourite character ever got mercilessly butchered.

WHY ARE YOU WRITING THIS? 

Well, let me give you a little bit of a backstory. I first read the Last Wish and the Sword of Destiny in 2012, when I was 14 years old. I instantly connected with the character of Calanthe, and after her death, it took me nearly a year to be able to pick up the saga itself. Ever since, she remained my favourite fictional character ever. As a little girl in misoginistic Poland, I was so lucky to have her as a role model. Because she fought for herself, she took no shit from anybody, she had love and respect of the people around her, and yet she had such tenderness and kindness about her that many strong woman-trope characters are missing these days, and that is exactly what happened to Calanthe when she was being translated to the screen. In 2015 The Wild Hunt was coming out and there were rumours of Ciri being included, so you can imagine my absolute glee and the hope I was filled with to have some more content with that one woman that meant so much to me growing up. And you can imagine my disappointment when all we got about her were a couple tiny mentions, even though the events of the Wild Hunt happen not even a decade after her death. Then the show by Netflix was announced and, once again, I had super high expectations. I wanted to see the wise, kind, beautiful Queen brought alive. December 2019 rolls in, and my hopes are being steamrolled. So here I am, 22 years old and crying over a fictional character, because one of the best written female characters ever (in my opinion) entered mainstream as a bullish, racist, homicidal tyrant. So let me address the biggest changes the show made to my beloved Calanthe Fiona Riannon, the Lioness of Cintra.

THE LOOKS 

That was obviously the first thing that threw me off. I was quite enthusiastic when the cast was announced, but then as the first promo pictures were released, my enthusiasm was slowly dying down. In the books, Calanthe’s looks are adressed very often: 

 “As before, the queen wore emeralds matching the green of her dress and her eyes. As before, a thin gold crown encircled her ash-gray hair.” Sword of Destiny. 

I tried to convince myself that Jodhi May won’t be a bad Calanthe so hard that I actually made this poor ass EDIT to feed my delusions and cheer myself up. In comparison, HERE is my personal favourite art of Calanthe that I find is the most accurate to the book portrayal. 

Even when the first trailer dropped I was still trying to convince myself that even though she has none of her Elder Blood features or her iconic emerald green, that she wore exclusively in the books, she couldn’t be that bad. Right? Wrong. 

THE DEMEANOR 

This is probably the biggest change. Calanthe was one of the wisest, most gracefully-written characters in the entire saga, and I really hoped to see that on screen. She was quick-witted, calculating, but at the same time caring enough to let her daughter choose her own destiny in the end (even if it was to be with a hedgehog-headed man twice her age). Her smiles were said to always be full of kindness, she was acting very proper and clearly cared about her image. I’m not going to be getting too much into it with my own words, let these examples speak for me:

'Ah, Geralt,' said Calanthe, with a gesture forbidding a servant from refilling her goblet. 'I speak and you remain silent. We're at a feast. We all want to enjoy ourselves. Amuse me. I'm starting to miss your pertinent remarks and perceptive comments. I'd also be pleased to hear a compliment or two, homage or assurance of your obedience. In whichever order you choose.' [...]  'Hochebuz,'  said Calante, looking at Geralt,  'my first battle. Although I fear rousing the indignation and contempt of such a proud witcher, I confess that we were fighting for money. Our enemy was burning villages which paid us levies and we, greedy for our tributes, challenged them on the field. A trivial reason, a trivial battle, a trivial three thousand corpses pecked to pieces by the crows. And look - instead of being ashamed I'm proud as a peacock that songs are sung about me. Even when sung to such awful music' Again she summoned her parody of a smile full of happiness and kindness, and answered the toast raised to her by lifting her own, empty, goblet. Geralt remained silent. The Last Wish.

'Aha,' said Calanthe quietly, clearly pleased. 'And what do you say, Geralt? The girl has taken after her mother. It's even a shame to waste her on that red-haired lout, Crach. The only hope is that the pup might grow into someone with Eist Tuirseach's class. It's the same blood, after all. Are you listening, Geralt? Cintra has to form an alliance with Skellige because the interest of the state demands it. My daughter has to marry the right person. Those are the results you must ensure me.' The Last Wish.

‘Very well then. As queen, I shall convene a council tomorrow. Cintra is not a tyranny. The council will decide whether a dead king's oath is to decide the fate of the successor to the throne. It will decide whether Pavetta and the throne of Cintra are to be given to a stranger, or to act according to the kingdom's interest.'  The Last Wish.

'Pavetta!' Calanthe repeated. 'Answer. Do you choose to leave with this creature?' Pavetta raised her head. 'Yes.' The Force filling the hall echoed her, rumbling hollowly in the arches of the vault. No one, absolutely no one, made the slightest sound. Calanthe very slowly, collapsed into her throne. Her face was completely expressionless. The Last Wish.

Guards, armed with guisarmes and lances, ran in from the entrance. Calanthe, upright and threatening, with an authoritative, abrupt gesture indicated Urcheon to them. Pavetta started to shout, Eist Tuirseach to curse. Everyone jumped up, not quite knowing what to do. ‘Kill him!' shouted the queen. The Last Wish.

CINTRA, RACISM AND MURDERING HER OWN PEOPLE 

In the books, Cintra was often mentioned to be obiding by the rules of the elves: 

‘Dear child,’ said Vesemir gravely, 'don’t let yourself get carried away by your emotions. You were brought up differently, you’ve seen children being brought up in another way. Ciri comes from the south where girls and boys are brought up in the same way, like the elves. She was put on a pony when she was five and when she was eight she was already riding out hunting. She was taught to use a bow, javelin and sword. A bruise is nothing new to Ciri—’ Blood of Elves.

There were many elves and dwarves living peacefully within its borders. Calanthe’s two names - Fiona and Riannon, come from her ancestors that are respectively a quarter and a half elf, and known to be that. Calanthe was the one who taught Ciri that non-humans are not dangerous:

‘I’m not afraid at all!’ Ciri suddenly cried, assuming her little devil face for a moment. ‘And I’m not parrotised! So you’d better watch your step! Nothing can happen to me here. Be sure! I’m not afraid. My grandmamma says that dryads aren’t evil, and my grandmamma is the wisest woman in the world! My grandmamma… My grandmamma says there should be more forests like this one…’ Sword of Destiny.

There was no actual reason nor basis for the showrunners to make her racist and make her murder elves. Having her walk into her own daughter’s birthday party, bathed in elven blood, while she knows that the same blood flows in her own veins, at least partially, was completely unnecessary. Even in the polish version of the show from 2001 Calanthe said: 

RELATIONSHIP WITH GERALT 

This probably hits me the most on personal level, because I feel like Calanthe had a huge impact on Geralt’s growth as a character, and with such a drastic change to their relationship, I’m unsure as to he will now proceed to develop. Calanthe was, in large, one of the first people in the books that treated Geralt as anything more than a mutant. Here are some of my favourite scenes between the two, in comparison with how their relationship was portrayed in the show:

"At times, no, for years at a time, I deluded myself that you might forget. Or that for other reasons you might be prevented from coming. No, I didn't want anything unfortunate to happen to you, but I had to take into consideration the dangerous nature of your profession. It is said that death follows in your footsteps, Geralt of Rivia, but that you never look behind you. Then... when Pavetta... You know already?" "I know," Geralt said, inclining his head. "My sincere condolences..." "No," she interrupted, "it was all long ago. I no longer wear mourning clothes, as you see. I wore them for long enough.” Sword of Destiny.

He slowly pushed the cup on the table so that the clink of silver on malachite would not betray the uncontrollable trembling of his arm. "You don't deny it?" "No." She bent to seize his hand with vigor. "You disappoint me," she said, giggling prettily. "This isn't voluntary," he responded, laughing as well. "How did you guess, Calanthe?" "I did not guess." She did not release his hand. "I said it at random, that's all." They broke out in laughter. Sword of Destiny.

"I will not take it. It is too great a responsibility, one that I refuse to assume. I would not want for this child to speak about you the way... the way I..." "You hate this woman, Geralt?" "My mother? No, Calanthe. I doubt that she was given a choice... or perhaps she had no say? No, she had, you know, enough formulas and elixirs... Choice. There is a sacred and incontestable choice of every woman that must be respected. Emotions are of no importance here. She had the indisputable right to make such a choice. That's what she did. But I think about meeting her, the expression on her face then... it gives me a sort of perverse pleasure, if you understand what I mean." Sword of Destiny.

A rosebush grew next to the gazebo. Geralt plucked a flower, breaking its stem and then knelt, his head bowed, presenting the flower in his hands. "I regret that I did not meet you sooner, white-haired one," she said, accepting the offered rose. "Rise." He rose. "If you change your mind," she went on, sniffing the flower, "if you decide... Return to Cintra. I will wait for you. Your destiny will be waiting for you, as well. Perhaps not advitam aeternam, but for some time, no doubt." "Farewell, Calanthe." "Farewell, witcher. Look after yourself. I... I sometimes feel... in a strange way... that I am seeing you for the last time." "Farewell, my queen." Sword of Destiny.

FALL OF CINTRA AND CALANTHE’S DEATH 

We were robbed of so many epic scenes that truly took away from Calanthe’s millitary accomplishments and showed none of the strength and determination she originally had: 

"The Nilfgaardians dealt the first blow," he began after a moment of silence. "There were thousands. They met with the armies of Cintra in the Marnadal valley. The battle lasted all day: from dawn to dusk. Cintra's troops valiantly resisted before being decimated. The king died, and that's when the queen..." "Calanthe." "Yes. Seeing that her army had succumbed to panic and scattered, she gathered around herself and her standard any who could still fight and formed a line of defense that reached the river, next to the city. All the soldiers who were still able followed." "And Calanthe?" "With a handful of knights, she covered the troops' crossing and defended the rear. They say she fought like a man, plunging into the thick of the battle. She was impaled by pikes when she charged against the Nilfgaardian infantry. She was then evacuated to the city. What's in that flask, Geralt?" "Vodka. Want some?" "Well then, gladly." "Speak. Continue, Dandelion. Tell me everything." "The city wasn't properly defended. There was no headquarters. The defensive walls were empty. The rest of the knights and their families, the princes and the queen, barricaded themselves in the castle. The Nilfgaardians then took the castle after their sorcerers reduced the gate to cinders and burned down the walls. Only the tower, apparently protected by magic, resisted the spells of the Nilfgaardian sorcerers. Even so, the attackers penetrated inside four days later without making camp. The women had killed the children, the boys and girls, and fell upon their own swords or... What's is it, Geralt?" "Continue, Dandelion." "Or... like Calanthe... head first, from the battlement, the very top... It's said that she asked to be... but no-one would agree. So she climbed up to the crenelations and... jumped head first. They say they did horrible things to the corpse afterward. I don't want... What is it?” Sword of Destiny.

I understand that this happened because of limited screen time, probably, but the whole Fall of Cintra had been squeezed into what seemed to be a single day, a crushing defeat for Calanthe’s forces, and probably in some way, punishment for her pride. 

AFTER CALANTHE’S DEATH 

While reading the rest of the saga, these little snipits of people talking about Calanthe, mentioning her, often with respect and reverence, mentioning how her people mourned her and swore revange for her, truly kept me going through. I wished that, at the end, Ciri would find it in herself to return home and liberate it, as back then I had no way to spoil myself the ending. In the books, you can really feel the outrage almost all of Continent feels after the murder of Calanthe: 

[...] Cintra is a symbol. Remember Sodden! If it were not for the massacre of that town and Calanthe's martyrdom, there would not have been such a victory then. The forces were equal — no one counted on our crushing them like that. But our armies threw themselves at their throats like wolves, like rabid dogs, to avenge the Lioness of Cintra. Blood of Elves.

[...] Bear in mind that these men left their homes and families, and fled to Sodden and Brugge, and to Temeria, because they wanted to fight for Cintra, for Calanthe’s blood. They wanted to liberate their country, to drive the invader from Cintra, so that Calanthe’s descendant would regain the throne. Baptism of Fire.

In the show, there is none of that. In fact, people seem to be full of disdain and hatred for her, saying things such as: 

which, in turn, fills me with dread for the upcoming seasons, because I can already feel all the further butchery coming my beloved Queen’s way.

IN CONCLUSION

In all honestly, there is very little the Calanthe from the show has in common with the one from the books, the one I originally fell in love with. Which is not to say that Netflix’s Calanthe is not a great character in her own right, because who doesn’t love a badass sword-wielding Queen, but as a portrayal of the greatest ruler within the Witcher universe, and one of, in my opinion, best written female rules in literature, she falls flat, and that’s what pushed me to write this useless and slightly bitter rant, in hopes to maybe interest more people in the original version of Calanthe and maybe, just maybe, prompt some of you to read the saga or, at the very least, the short stories. 

#Calanthe fiona riannon #queen calanthe #anti-netflix #rant #ask to tag

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Prize *smut*

Fili x Reader

I'd love to see a smutty Fili/hobbit!reader!

Falling in love was something 100% not on the agenda when you followed your brother Bilbo out on a crazy journey to help some dwarves and a wizard reclaim some mountain hundreds of miles away. 

Literally, the only reason you decided to follow along in the first place is because Mr. Gandalf, who you recognized right away during your morning smoke with your brother, said that your extensive knowledge of plants and greenery would serve to be very useful to both the cook and the healer. You didn't know what he meant by that at the time, but you were flattered that he knew of your skills nonetheless. 

Anyways, you went on that long ass journey and became really close with the shorter, still taller than you though, blond-nephew of your employer Thorin Oakenshield. He didn't speak to you right away but you caught his gaze more often then he'd like to admit, and so, having grown tired of his stares and lack of action, you walked up to him one evening and began a conversation.

After you approached him that night, you two became easy friends. Though, you're embarrassed to admit, that you actually thought he was Kili and his brother was Fili for the first week. 

When you called him Kili while the two of you were riding together and he looked at you absolutely baffled, you were mortified to realize that you had mixed them up and nobody bothered to correct you. 

Not even Bilbo! That damn traitor. 

He only laughed it off, and occasionally he'll tease you about it when you're speaking. Like when you call his name, the right one, and he'll say, "Don't you mean Kili?", and positively confuse the hell out of you. You didn't fall for it again after the 3rd time, though.

You don't know exactly what point you began to fall in love with him, maybe around the time at Mirkwood when he protected you so valiantly and declared that he wouldn't let those nasty spiders touch you (of course, he couldn't fulfill that declaration, but it's the thought that counts), and how he refused to be separated from you when the elves literally kidnapped you all and you were worried sick about your brother. It's also possible that you could've fallen for him that one cold night when he gave you his blanket and offered up his spot by the fire so you could keep warm. 

Okay, exactly what point you fell in love doesn't actually matter. 

What really matters is that you fell in love with him, he kissed you, and now he's declared that he loves you  too  and wants to court you. 

That's that. 

And then when the journey came to an end and Thorin went nuts over his stone, Fili stated that his uncle won't bother you as long as he's around(luckily Thorin was very fond of your brother, so you didn't need to worry much). 

There was a battle over treasure (shocking), the three Durin's almost met their maker, and now you're helping to prepare Bilbo for his journey back. When you told him you wouldn't be going back he wasn't surprised, but he was rather dejected and promised over and over than he'd write you often and come to visit whenever chance allows it. 

You stayed by Fili for the majority of his recovery process, and when he finally opened his eyes on that 7th day of unconsciousness (his wounds were the worst by far, so it took longer for him to wake) you were so happy you actually cried. 

"F-Fili!" You had whisper yelled at the time, tears streaming down your cheeks as you grabbed onto his hand and leaned over him since you were kneeling on his bed. 

When those pretty blue eyes of his opened halfway and he looked at you, a small smile came to his face and he mumbled despite the tender moment, "Don't you mean Kili?"

Any other time you would've smacked his arm, but you just laughed and kissed his forehead tenderly. 

He spent another week or so on bedrest, and you were determined to keep him company no matter what. 

Another month passes by before he's fully recovered, and as much as he encouraged you to jump his bones and as much as you wanted to, you abstained and insisted he needs more time to recover. 

---

You were walking around a training grounds area in search of Fili, not really knowing where anything is yet since you spent the majority of your time in Fili's room and the healer's room when you were watching over him. 

Not to mention these halls are huge, and you're but a small hobbit girl attempting to find her way around. 

The distinct sound of blades clanging together reaches your ears, and while you don't see the people causing the noise, you know exactly who it is. 

You turn a corner and see Fili and his brother caught in an intense practice battle, both sweating heavily with trembling arms and twitching muscles. You can tell that they've been at it for a while, and despite your slight displeasure at seeing him working himself so hard, you get it. He was on bed rest for weeks and wasn't permitted to do anything by himself, so now that he's in a better condition he has to spend some of that extra energy. 

Also... as embarrassing as it is, he's pretty damn hot like this. 

You've always been aware of how wonderful Fili is at fighting, and of just how strong he is, but seeing it in a controlled and safe environment is simply a sight to behold.

Seconds of observing tells you all you need to know about this fight, including who the winner is going to be.

Kili is an excellent fighter, but his skill pales in comparison to his brothers, especially where hand-to-hand and sword combat is concerned. He's spent the majority of his time defending and blocking against Fili's attacks, for the blond dwarf leaves no moment of rest or second to breathe. 

When Kili blocks Fili just goes at him with another blow, thus leaving Kili with barely moments to defend himself. 

Something about the way Fili looks in this state makes your insides churn and heart flutter, and you feel weak in the knees when you catch a glimpse of his eyes. While his magnificent baby blues may look soft and tender in a normal setting, here you see nothing other than pure confidence and a powerful, burning desire to completely  destroy  his opponent. Yes, they're brothers, but the power dynamic between the two of them is quite clear. 

When he pushes Kili back he doesn't go for him right away as he had before, rather he stalks around his younger brother much like a predator sizing up its prey. It sends positively wonderful tingles down your spine and causes goosebumps to erupt on your skin.

Gosh, the way he looks at this very moment is enough to make you swoon and sigh, but you remain composed and watch the rest of this fight unfold. 

"Come on now, Kili, surely you've got more than that." His voice is taunting and smug, and it seems to frustrate Kili.

The jeer from Fili only seems to increase Kili's determination and fuels him to go on the offensive this time. When Kili does manage to get in a good swipe and forces Fili to jump back, his intense gaze turns into something that promises nothing good. He goes at Kili again full force and manages to knock him down, pointing his sword at his throat with a triumphant smirk on his face. 

Damn, why can't he put you in your place like that? 

You surprise yourself with this line of thinking and attempt to shake it away quickly, continuing to watch them to see how this victory is handled. 

Kili drops his sword and puts his hands up in a surrender motion, sighing in frustration. "You win, you win." He grumbles none too happily, getting back to his feet when Fili lowers his sword. 

Since they're no longer distracted, you step further into the room and clear your throat. 

When Fili sees you, a bright smile spreads across his face, "Y/N! How long have you been there?" He asks in a pleased voice, striding towards you with his arms open to embrace you. 

You jump up and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly while he spins the two of you around a couple of times. 

When he stops you get a view of Kili, who is cringing over exaggeratedly and acting like he's totally grossed out. 

Fili, still holding onto you, turns to say something to Kili before his eyes narrow at said brothers dramatic distaste for your affection, "Do I need to beat you in another challenge?" 

The brown-haired brother only rolls his eyes and starts to head towards the exit of the room, "Shut up you foul winner. If this were a bow fight you'd stand no chance." He then leaves before Fili can retort. 

Quiet giggles leave you at the theatric exit and slightly clever one-liner that Kili makes, only Fili doesn't seem to find it very funny. 

"Are you  laughing ?" He asks exasperatedly, putting you back down on your feet with his hands on your shoulders. 

You reach up to cover your mouth with your hands to stifle the tittering, but it doesn't prove to work too well because you only burst into another fit of giggles. 

The blond dwarf glares down at you, though not too seriously, and drops his hands from your shoulders. "It wasn't even that funny..." He huffs. 

Eventually, your laughs quiet down and you look behind him at the discarded weapons they left behind. "Shouldn't you clean that up?" 

"Probably." Oh great, one-word answers. 

You tap your foot a few times then walk over and begin to pick things up in your small arms, carrying them over to the weapons rack as you return them to their previous places. "You should be more careful, you know. You could reopen that wound on your chest." You scold lightly, straightening an ax that was turned awkwardly. 

"I'm fine." His voice comes from directly behind you, and not having heard him walk over to you, you jump and drop one of the daggers resting in your arms. 

He grabs it before it can stab your poor hobbity foot and gives you a smug expression much like the one he gave his brother, "See? My reflexes are as sharp as ever, love." 

You only huff much like he had earlier and put the last of the weapons up, not replying. 

"Do I need to prove it to you?" He asks suddenly. 

You look back at him with your eyebrows furrowed, "How would you do that?" 

"We can wrestle." 

"Wrestling with you is never fair!" You complain, crossing your arms over your chest, "You always win." 

It seems your complaints only amuse him, "And why do you think that is?" 

"Um, because you're like, one thousand times stronger than I am! I'm just a dainty little hobbit." Yes, wrestling with him just to see that beyond sexy face again would be nice, but you don't much like the thought of being beaten so easily. 

"That is most certainly a lie." He retorts, grabbing your arm and squeezing your bicep, "You've got some muscles. Remember that time you knocked me over with just your elbow?" Yeah, he's definitely trying to sweet talk you right now. 

"Yes I do remember, it was accidental, and I cracked you in the nose so hard you started to bleed." You still feel guilty when you think about it. 

"Come on, it'll be fun." He insists, pulling you up against him by your arm, "I'll even fight with a handicap. I'll keep one hand behind my back." 

Well, that does sound a bit more fair.

You pout at him for a few seconds before caving in. "Fineeee," you groan, dragging out the 'e', "But you're still going to win." 

You let him drag you over to the area covered in softer ground, groaning and whining the whole way. 

Once the two of you are there, he places you in front of him and steps back, opening one arm wide while putting the other behind his back. "Alright, come at me." 

Despite his invitation to attack him, you just kinda stand there for a moment and don't move. Your hope is that you can wait him out, but you have no such luck because he just stands there as still as a statue. 

You kinda just take a few steps forward and jump into him suddenly, trying to push him off balance by throwing all of your weight into it, but it does little in the take-down department. 

He wraps his arm around you and takes a few steps back before using one of his feet to kick one of your legs out from under you. 

Lucky for you, you have big hobbit feet so you're able to regain your footing easily and you jump back away from him. "Maybe you should take back a leg too!" You exclaim, not waiting for him to open his mouth to respond before jumping on him again. 

You realize that you have to be strategic about this, so when you wait until he's focused on replying to you to attack him, it actually works in your favor. 

You wrap your arms tightly around the back of his neck and dig your heels into the ground in an attempt to pull him down. He bends forward slightly and wobbles, but he doesn't fall over like you hoped he would. 

Fili grabs for you with his free hand, but you let go and duck under his arm. 

Since you're smaller you can move much faster, so while he recovers from throwing his weight into grabbing onto your clothes, you jump up on his back and wrap your arms and legs around him. 

This actually serves to work pretty well, because he falls forward and lands face-first on the mats below.

He grunts when he hits the ground, his arms and legs sprawled out in every direction since he didn't have enough time to break his fall before you jumped him. 

You settle your self on his lower back and sit on him like that, knees bent and feet pointing the opposite direction of where you face.

"I got you!" You exclaim exultantly, bouncing on his back a few times from excitement. 

Of course, your victory is short-lived, because he sits up on his hands and knees very suddenly.

Not having expected this, you lose your balance and fall sideways off of him, landing on the ground with a soft 'oof.'

He sits on his knees and reaches for you with the hand he's allowed to use, but you roll away just in time, so he only catches air. 

When you roll off to the side he follows you with his gaze, the playfulness and amusement no longer present as an expression much similar to earlier forms on his face. That same fierce glower that holds no actual malice but still promises problems if you defy him. Only, there's something much more wolfish and ravening than when he was looking at his brother, something that promises a  different  type of problem if you pull that again. 

This time when he lunges at you, you're much too slow in response since you were rather distracted in observing the way he was looking at you, so he hits his mark and grabs onto your wrist and tugs you toward him. 

In a test of brute strength or stamina, he would certainly win every time, but you've got a few things in your favor that he doesn't. One being how lithe you are, and another is your excellent acting. 

As soon as he tugs you forward you cry out a bit more dramatic than necessary and watch as all signs of competitiveness leave his expression. His grip on you goes lax as concern sparkles in his ever lovely blue eyes, but when you smile mischievously he realizes that he's been duped. 

The instant his grip on you relaxes, you wrench your arm away and push him onto his back, landing on top of him with your arms stretched out in front of you, your chest pressed against his, and your knees resting on either side of him. 

You sit up quickly and grab his only usable hand with both of yours and pin it to his chest, smiling brightly, "I got you again!" 

A spark of annoyance flickers on his face when you speak down to him so smugly behind the false chipper attitude, and where he would usually just let you have this one, he instead bucks his hips upwards suddenly and propels your forward. 

You shriek in surprise and jut your elbows out so you don't smash your poor face into the floor, and while his actions didn't completely throw you off, he moved you forward enough that you had to let go of his hand and give him more room to move. 

He wraps his now freed hand around your waist and rolls the both of you over, moving his hand so you don't land on it, then placing it on your chest to keep you pinned to the ground. 

Your legs kick out as you try to stop him from getting on top of you (it's all over the moment he sits on you), but he just swings his leg over you and straddles your hips instead. There is a very telling hardness pressing down onto you, but you elect to ignore that since you're upset he didn't let you win. 

As hard as you try and as much as you squirm around and try to push him off, you know that you can't, so you, ultimately, stop your thrashing and just lay there and look up at him with a pout. "I thought you were gonna let me win..." You whine, pushing on the hand holding you down to signal that you're not planning on moving around anymore. 

"Why would I do that?" He asks, letting both of his hands drop (the one behind his back as well) to the mats by your head. 

"Because... Because I wanted you to?" You try, though you know that is not a sufficient answer. 

He ignores your spotty response and continues to look at you intensely. That fire in his eyes has yet to extinguish, you realize, and when he begins to lean down a bit closer your face flares red. 

"Now for my prize." He growls lowly, smashing his lips against yours before you can say something sassy or argue. 

You all but melt into him, reaching up to bury your hands in his wild golden mane so you can tug him closer by the roots of his hair. 

He wastes no time in claiming your mouth as his own, allowing his hands to wander as they please along the places he can easily reach on your body. 

Every pleased whimper and sigh that leaves you is muffled by his harsh all teeth and tongue lip-lock, but you find that you quite like the way he's absolutely kissing the daylights out of you. 

His large hands run under your tunic and slide upwards towards your chest. He has no issue in removing your bindings, and as soon as they're out of the way he grabs onto your breasts. 

You tug at his hair lightly to indicate that you need to breathe, and he complies right away and moves his head down to mouth along your neck. Shallow but quick pants cause your chest to rise and fall hastily, though your pulse and breathing don't slow at all given his ministrations against your chest and neck. 

The gentle sucking and small licks he leaves along your throat turn into harsher nipping, scraping, and biting, but you don't mind that in the slightest and only tilt your head back further to give him better access to you. 

His hands leave your breasts suddenly, causing you to whine out of displeasure, but you don't have long to dwell on that disappointment because suddenly a very audible ripping sound registers in your mind.

You don't move at first, looking down at your torn tunic with shock before you yank on his hair sharply in an attempt to get him to look at you and notice that you very much did not appreciate that. Your actions don't quite have the effect that you hoped they would, though, because he just groans in a  very  pleased way and continues to attack your neck with affection. 

"Fili!" You scold loudly, pulling on his hair again to make him look at you. 

This time he allows you to pull his head back a bit and looks at you questioningly, "What?" It seems he doesn't quite see the error of his ways. 

"Um, you just destroyed my shirt? And in case you've forgotten, we're in the middle of the training rooms and I can't very well walk around without a tunic." You don't sound nearly as annoyed as you hoped you would, but you keep the cross expression on your face. 

He rolls his eyes at you and sits up, pulling off his own shirt and placing it on the ground next to your head, "You can have that when I'm done." 

Your sour expression doesn't change.

This time he sighs heavily and seems to take you more seriously, "Fine, put it on and I'll take you to my room." 

Postponing your activities isn't the most appealing idea, but you much prefer that to the teasing you'll get if anyone walks in on you. 

You sit up slowly and pick up his shirt, cringing at the dampness of it before pulling it over your head.

As soon as you've put his shirt on he stands up, leaning down only to grab you by the waist and pick you up. After he picks you up, he haphazardly throws you over his shoulder and places his hand around your waist so you don't fall. 

Oh god, you pray that no one stumbles upon the two of you.

You hear him grumbling about 'high-maintenance hobbit women' and 'just wanting to take her right then and there for being so insolent and sneaky'. That last part makes you splutter and smack him on his back lightly. 

"I was not being insolent or sneaky!" You protest.

His response is a sharp slap on your bottom, and when you yelp in a high-pitched voice, he laughs at you.

Suffice to say, you don't speak anymore until he arrives at your rooms. 

The door opens, and as soon as the two of you are through it he closes it with his foot and rushes you toward the bed, dropping you down on the fluffy mattress without a second thought. 

You bounce a few times when he plops you down, but you don't complain this time and just scoot back a bit. "I can't believe you spanked me in the middle of the hallway." You grumble indignantly, glaring up at him. 

Instead of seeing amusement or joy on his face, though, you see a dwarf driven by an insatiable, ravenous hunger that can only be doused by you, apparently. He doesn't even answer your silly scolding like he usually does.

A wolfish smirk spreads across his lips as he climbs onto the bed, the mattress dipping down on either side of you beneath his weight as he leans over you. 

He doesn't hesitate in ripping his shirt off of you and over your head (yeah, he won't ruin his own shirt, but yours is fine for the destroying apparently!), and your bottoms follow quickly after. 

Fili grabs you under your thighs and lifts you up a bit, bringing you to the head of the bed so you can rest back comfortably against the pillows. "You're mine for the rest of the night, love. I hope that doesn't bother you..." He whispers next to your ear, allowing his hands to explore the expanse of your stomach and along your breasts much like earlier.

"Y-You won fair and square." You reply coyly, reaching down to begin tugging at the hem of his tented trousers to pull them down. 

Once you've gotten them past his muscled thighs, you lightly grab his impressive length and squeeze gently, watching as his eyes flicker shut briefly and feeling the way he twitches in your hand. 

Much to your surprise, though, he grabs your wrist and pins it down to the pillows by your head, kissing your lips again, "Amrâlimê*" He growls out with a bit of strain, it seems he didn't really want to stop you after all, "Just let me work."  *my love.

You nod your head once, though you still pout, and just look back up at him with a raised eyebrow.

It seems he takes your expectancy as some sort of challenge, because he releases your hand and rubs his own between your legs to feel you. "Well will you look at that." He whispers smugly, sliding his fingers through your folds easily, "I haven't even done much, amrâlimê...," he pauses as something seems to dawn on him, and when he speaks again, his voice is practically a purr, "Oh, I see what's going on here." 

"W-What do you mean?" You ask breathlessly, shivering at the feeling of finally being touched where you want him most. 

He continues to tease your sex, never putting enough pressure or touching you exactly where you want, and presses his nose into your hair at the side of your head so his lips hover just above your ear. "I think you know." 

Truthfully, you don't know what he's talking about, or at least you think you don't, but you don't show any signs of agreeing or answering him.

"Well, if you really don't know..." He nips at your earlobe lightly, dipping one of his fingers inside of you briefly before pulling it out and continuing to teasingly and too-gently rub you. "Answer me this, my dear hobbit, how long were you watching me fight Kili? How long were you standing there, watching me as I showed him who was in charge?" His words are positively filthy, but for some reason it serves to only excite you further. 

"I-I don't know... A little while?" You say it as more of a question, because truthfully, you don't know how long you were there. You were so entranced by him and the powerful, almost feral wildness and love for challenge that you didn't really keep track of time. All you could focus on was his predatory expression and how much you wanted it trained on you. 

Oh.

A look of realization spreads across your face, and though he can't see it, the change in your body language tells him all he needs to know.

"You know what I think?" He asks lowly, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his waist as he lines himself up with your awaiting heat.

You shake your head, eyes falling shut and brows furrowing with anticipation. 

He pushes into you slowly, he's always careful at this part knowing that you're still just a tiny thing, and buries one of his hands into your curly head of hair, "I think that you stayed to watch for so long because you wanted me to do the same to you." His voice is more breathy from finally being inside of you, but he continues, "I think you wanted me to challenge you to wrestle just so you could lose and have me like this." 

He's already begun to set a steady pace, one that isn't particularly fast on the way out, but on the way back in he practically slams into you, causing your body to jolt upwards with each thrust. "Y-You wanted me to lose my head, that's the only reason you cheated and pretended I hurt you, just so that I would slam you onto the ground and have my way with you." His words are just as impactful even though his voice breaks a few times, and as embarrassing as it is, he might just be right. 

"I don't know." You reply lamely, scratching at his muscled back at the maddening sensation of his too gentle thrusts. 

When you claim not to know, he slows further and lays his forehead against yours. 

As much as it pains him to hold back so much, he wants to hear it from you, yourself. "Did it excite you to see me put him in his place, love?" He asks huskily, squeezing your hips pretty harshly, "Did you stand there for so long because the mere thought of having me turn my sights onto you under the small chance that I would grab you and make you mine right then and there, was too much to bear?" 

"A-Ah, yes, Fili!" You cry suddenly when his hips snap forward more sharply and his thumb lands on your clit to begin lightly stroking over it, "I wanted you so bad, I-I just didn't realize it!" You admit breathlessly, clawing at his back desperately, "Please, just take me properly, I can't stand the teasing..!" Normally you'd be too proud to plead, but being so close to satisfaction only for it to slip from your grasp each time was beginning to eat at your sanity. 

Your honesty is rewarded with a faster pace and more firm circles being rubbed on your twitching clitorus. This new change makes you cry out as you've finally got what you want, so you tighten your leg around him in hopes of pulling him deeper inside of you. 

"Say my name again, amrâlimê." He groans as he starts to leave kisses along your jawline and cheeks. 

"F-Fili..." You whimper, running one of your hands into his hair.  

"Louder." This time he says it as more of a command, snapping his hips up into yours roughly. You respond to his actions right away by crying out his name louder. 

The floodgates open, and suddenly his teasing steady pace turns into erratic ruts and juts forward that push you up each time. 

The hand he fisted in your hair yanks back, though not too hard, so he can press his face to your neck and leave more evidence of your deeds. 

During a particularly hard thrust, he bites you much harder than before, and the mixture of intense pleasure and stinging pain elicits a loud and rather high pitched gasping moan from you, and that sound alone drives him crazy.

He begins saying things in his dwarfish tongue that you can't understand, though from the breathiness of his voice and the timing in which he says things in Khuzdul, you can tell that it's either praises or more indecent phrases. 

You entangle one of your hands into his hair and tug at it gently, urging him upwards so he can kiss you again. He readily complies and covers your mouth with his own once more, reaching down to grab your leg still laying on the bed and pulling it up to wrap around his waist much like the other one. 

The hair on his chest scratches at your softer skin each time he thrusts into you, and while there's the very real possibility that you could get irritated skin from it, you still find yourself enjoying every sensation he brings you. You can feel each breath and twitch of his muscles as well as each slight squeeze of your thigh and small tug at your hair. Just as you can feel all of him, he can feel all of you. Every hitched breath, gasp, and tremble can be heard and felt clearly, and the way you clench around him and scratch at his firm back sends sharp feelings of pleasure spiking through him.

The cool beads of the braids on his mustache rest against your cheeks and his nose presses into the side of yours as he kisses you, and it provides a nice contrast against your burning skin. 

All of the sensations of him and this mind blowing intimacy begin to build up and fuel a greater flame inside of you, and pretty soon you're toes are curling on the sheets and your hands are tugging more and more at his hair. He can tell from this sudden shift that you're nearly there, so, wanting to help you find release, he moves his hand back down and rubs firm circles against your bundle of nerves in time with each erratic plunge into you. 

He can feel the beginning of his own end start to approach, so he becomes more determined to have you come so you won't feel dissatisfied in any way. 

It seems his ministrations on your sensitive clit are exactly what you need to push you over the edge, because mere seconds later you're crying out and tensing around him as your nails dig into the hard planes of his back. 

Fili breathes in sharply and grips your leg with a bruising force, much harsher than he meant to unfortunately, at the newfound tightness squeezing his manhood. 

The feeling of your climax brings him to his moments later, and since he doesn't have to worry about you becoming over-sensitive just yet, he allows himself to properly ride the both of you through your orgasms, his mouth leaving yours so you can both breathe properly. 

Your legs pull him impossibly closer as he spends himself inside of you and you slowly start to come down from your high. When you start to flinch and move he stops all movement and all but collapses on top of you, his hand leaving your now slightly aching thigh to push some of your hair out of your face. 

He peers down at your sated and tired face with pure adoration in his eyes while he strokes his knuckles lightly down your cheek after moving your curly and now damp hair from your eyes. He leaves another, gentler kiss against your lips as he pulls out of you delicately, frowning slightly as you wince when your legs drop back to the bed. 

His gaze flickers down and he sees the angry indented finger-marks that he unintentionally left on you, and right away he feels a little guilty, even more so when he gets a view of the indents of his teeth on your shoulder. 

You don't notice his regretful expression right away, but when you do see his less than happy countenance you cup one of his cheeks and ask tiredly, "Fili? What's wrong?" 

Those pretty baby blues flicker up to your own eyes once more and he mumbles shamefully, "I've hurt you." 

Your head shakes and your eyebrows knit together in confusion when he says that he hurt you, because you really have no clue what he's talking about. "What? You hurt me? When?" 

"Just now."

He glances back down at your bruised leg again and this time you follow his gaze, and when you see what he's talking about you release a small puff of laughter, "Is that what you're referring to?" You wonder with a smile on your face, running your fingers through his sweaty hair so you can look at his face more clearly. 

He nods.

"What happened to all of that talk about my liking your rough treatment, hm?" Your voice takes on a more teasing tone, though there is still a softness to it since you feel bad that he feels bad about 'hurting' you. "Are you no longer confident in your conclusion, my sweet prince?" 

His eye twitches in annoyance at the nickname, but he doesn't address it and instead shakes his head, "I know I was right, but that will most definitely be sore later on." 

Ever the cocky thing he is. 

"And if I say that I like it anyways?" 

This time he looks at you more in surprise, and for the first time since this day began, you see a hint of red warming his face, "Did you really?" He asks, rather unsure. 

You nod your head, then remove your hands from his hair and wrap them around his middle, closing your eyes as you get more comfortable. "Mmhm... I like everything you do. Now lets go to sleep." 

"Alright, alright." He shifts positions so he's no longer crushing you underneath him, then gathers you up in his arms and pulls you more firmly against him, resting his chin atop your head. "I would be careful about the things you tell me you like though, love. Because then I'll be more inclined to do them..." He mumbles, rubbing his strong hand up your back. 

You giggle softly and press a small kiss against his neck before pressing your hands to his chest, "Isn't that the whole point?" 

"Just remember that you asked for it." He teases, shutting his eyes so he can rest. 

"I will." 

#reader insert #fluff #tolkien #kili #the hobbit #fili imagine #fili x reader #fili #fili durin #smut #romance #the hobbit botfa #botfa #reader #the hobbit fanfiction

[whenputtingpentopaper]

The Song

Part I - Kili’s Mistake

Part: I 

A/N: I know the imagine is five years old, but I always loved reading the works that came of it. This is my own spin on the prompt, and there will be multiple parts. This is just the first. This is also my first work for this blog, and I’m very happy to get it out there. It was a joy to write over the past week. Also, the song is the Celtic Women’s version of Mo Ghile Mear, which is originally based on a poem about the Jacobite Rising of 1715. It has an interesting history, but I picked this version because it was the one that came to me when I thought of what the reader might sing. Because it isn’t native to Middle Earth, I changed the meaning of the song a bit; although, if you look at the translated lyrics of the chorus, it could imply the meaning I have assigned to it. Please, give it a listen; everything about it--the vocals, music, lyrics--are beautiful!

Also, requests are currently open, so request here. I am currently accepting requests for headcanons, blurbs, drabbles & one-shots!

Pairing: Kili (Tolkien) x Reader

Words: 2447

Synopsis: Based on the following ImaginexHobbit imagine found here.

Rated: T

Warnings: Language, Nudity & Sexual Themes

Can you feel the river run? Waves are dancing to the sun Take the tide and face the sea And find a way to follow me

The soft lilt of your voice carried through the silence of the night, your only accompaniment the gentle whisper of leaves, the barely there hum of woodland critters, and the sound of drops, rolling down your bare skin to fall to the river from whence they came. Fortunately, the wind was forgiving, tepid against your cooled skin, and the water that surrounded your body up to your waist was the perfect temperature. Refreshing but not freezing.

Leave the field and leave the fire And find the flame of your desire Set your heart on this far shore And sing your dream to me once more

Lifting your arms to bring your brush through another section of hair, you resumed your singing, eyes falling closed.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

It was an old song but pretty, one your mother had used to sing to you when you were but a wee thing. Her ethereal voice combined with the melodic yet mysterious chorus were enough to soothe you to slumber. It was a comfort, even later on in your life, when you learned of the sad story the lyrics were weaving. A woman losing her love; a heartbreaking premise if there ever was one. And yet, it was as beautiful as the full moon’s reflection on this clear night.

Now the time has come to leave Keep the flame and still believe Know that love will shine through darkness One bright star to light the wave

Scooping up some water with your free hand, you brought the liquid to your right arm, rubbing gently against your skin and removing the dirt and grime that had built up from being on the road the past few days. You switched your brush to the opposite palm, repeating the process on the opposite side. It felt so good to be clean, which was why you couldn’t resist the opportunity to break away from your company of thirteen dwarves and a hobbit to come down to this river. You had known it to be here, having passed it earlier in the evening, just before Thorin had decided it was time they make camp. The lot of them had been so excited to finally sit in front of a fire and eat, but not you. Food could wait. You longed for a bath, knowing the last one you had was back in Rivendell.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

You began to braid together the locks of your damp hair, having learned your lesson about letting it fly free while you roamed about Middle Earth. As your fingers twisted in and out, you began to head back towards shore, the wind having a slight chill to it now as it hit more and more of exposed skin. You broke out in gooseflesh as your feet left the water for the fine sand that made the shore. Quickly, urged on by the sudden cold and your nakedness, you finished the large plait, securing it with a band before letting it fall limp against your back. 

Lift your voice and raise the sail Know that love will never fail Know that I will sing to you Each night as I dream of you

You waited a few minutes, using your hands to warm your shoulders as you walked over to the small towel you had laid out on a nearby rock. A tunic and trousers lay beside it, without dampness and warm and calling to you, but you took some time to dry yourself off, bending over to start with your legs before bringing the towel over your stomach and chest. Your arms were last, and the air would remove whatever wetness remained on your cheeks.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

Finally dressed, you gathered your towel and brush, walking back towards the campsite, using deep dwarfish laughter as your guide. There was a slight upslope towards them with trees littering the path you made, but now that you were in a few layers and shoes, you did not mind the walk, continuing to sing softly to yourself until you came to the end of the song. 

A few moments later, you were being greeted by smiles and Bofur asking about your bath.

“It was wonderful, and definitely something I needed,” you responded as you placed your items by your pack before joining the Company around the fire. A bowl was put into your lap, filled about halfway with some stew. It was still steaming, thankfully, and you immediately began to eat, your stomach aching now with the prospect of being filled with food, and Bombur’s food to boot!

“Perhaps we should all partake in a bath before setting out in the morrow,” Bilbo nonchalantly suggested from beside you, and you hid your smile behind the rim of your bowl. He had been complaining of the stench that seemed to permeate the Company; you weren’t the only one having gone without a proper cleansing since your time with the elves.

The golden-haired dwarf was the first to respond to the hobbit’s suggestion, his eyes going wide with mock outrage. “Why, Bilbo, are you suggesting that we stink?”

“You know what, Fili, I think he is suggesting such a thing,” Kili said, lightly hitting his brother’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “The nerve. Especially when he smells just as bad.”

“Aye,” agreed his brother, leaning towards him as he eyed Bilbo with a frown. “If not worse.”

The hobbit looked absolutely livid by the two young dwarves’ banter, and the scowl on his face with his glare directed at them had the opposite effect than what had been desired. The brothers bursted out into laughter, and the rest of the group soon joined in at poor Bilbo’s expense. Even you, who normally took pity on the object of Kili’s and Fili’s wrath were not immune to the infectious hysterics. And so, the rest of the evening continued on with small talk and howling among companions; nothing of any real note happened until you were settling down for the night.

The trouble started as you were laying out your bedroll beneath a tree, close to Bilbo and Kili, who was in the midst of doing the same. Fili was taking first watch, meaning he was away from his younger brother, and therefore, not being influenced to partake in his dastardly whims. The camp was quiet because of this, several of the company’s members already burrowed beneath their blankets, soothed to sleep by the crickets and frogs, voicing their own soothing lullaby. 

But they were not the only ones singing. 

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear

It was the brunet Durin, murmuring the words to your song. 

Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

And there was only one possible way he could have heard it, as you had never, ever sung in the presence of any of the men you were currently traveling with. You couldn’t. Not knowingly. You had an awful case of nerves whenever asked to perform in front of others, so to have learned the lyrics to that song…

“Kili!” his name was a horrified gasp from your lips, and he froze in his work, his back still to you. He had gone silent, the rest of the words dying in his throat when he realized he had been caught.

You stepped over your bedroll before taking another long stride to find yourself leaning down into the young Dwarf’s face, hands on your hips. “How do you know that song?”

Kili audibly gulped, chocolate brown eyes straying from yours as he took a few moments to try and come up with some sort of an excuse, but having you this close to him, even with all your ire drifting off of your form in waves, was chasing away any coherent thought, let alone a proper explanation. And as more time passed in silence, he could feel your glare sharpening, as if getting ready to pierce right through him. His lips parted, having found his throat had gone dry, and he sucked in a bit of air to try and buy himself some more time. Of course, he had nothing to say. What could he say when it was quite obvious just where he had heard that song before?

But your patience had, apparently, run out, and more than anything, you felt the sting of betrayal. This dwarf, this wonderful goofy man-child that you had come to care for, clearly wasn’t the gentleman you had initially learned him to be. All those offerings of hands to keep you from tripping, giftings of his blanket to keep you warmer at night and all those questions regarding your well-being, where had they stemmed from? How could the same person that had been so kind and polite towards you--with the occasional, meaningless prank--peak on you while you were in the middle of a bath? You had told him where you were going because you trusted that he would keep the others from following; it most certainly had not been an invitation for a private viewing party. 

Unable to bear his presence any longer, you spun away from him, crossing the short distance to your bedroll and gathering it up in your arms along with the rest of your things. You walked around the Hobbit, who was currently feigning sleep to make it seem that he hadn’t been listening to your whole exchange with the young prince, and set yourself up so that he was your buffer. The whole while, you felt Kili’s eyes at your back, and when you went to lay down for the evening, in your periphery, you noticed that he had not moved from where you had left him, only now, he looked positively guilty, head hanging and bottom lip in an almost-pout. 

Your heart--infernal thing that it was--ached at his expression. He looked even smaller than usual--being a human, you were taller than him--but you couldn’t let that get to you. What he did was wrong. And the fact he had no explanation for his behavior confirmed the worst for you. He had really just come down to the river to get an eyeful of you; the performance was just an extra, one that had lingered in his mind. 

It stung, and you had trouble falling asleep that night, your back to both Bilbo and Kili. That next morning, it was Fili--not his brother--that had tapped your shoe with the tip of his boot, stirring you from slumber. Dazed, you lifted your head slowly, looking at him over your shoulder.

“Time to get up, Y/N. Thorin wants us to move out soon,” the blond dwarf said with a pitying smile; it was clear that he had woken you from a deep sleep.

Once he had walked off, you gave yourself a moment and a good stretch before getting to your feet and starting on packing. 

Beside you, Bilbo was just finishing up with his bedroll when he turned to you. The hobbit watched you for a few minutes, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally stepped towards you and said what was on his mind, “I, um, I know it probably isn’t any of my business, but your father did ask that I keep an eye out for you while on this journey. And I, obviously, saw what had happened between you and Kili last night. It isn’t clear to me what had transpired; all I gathered from the situation was that you weren’t happy he knew that song he had been singing. However, if you do feel like talking, know that I am more than willing to lend an ear, should you need it.”

It was a sweet sentiment, one that made you smile at him as you straightened to your full height. “Thanks, Bilbo. I appreciate you being willing to do that for me, but this is really between Kili and I.”

“Understood,” he responded with a nod, curls bouncing with the movement. “But if you change your mind, don’t be afraid to come to me.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Unfortunately for Kili--and Fili, too, who had to hear his brother’s lamenting whenever the two of them were alone--your way of handling the situation was to completely avoid him. If he brought his pony up by yours, you’d urge yours to go a bit faster, moving between two company members so that the brown-haired prince had no choice but to remain behind you. If he tried to talk to you once camp was set, you’d make your way over to Bilbo or Bofur and talk to them as if Kili hadn’t just called your name. If you woke in the morning to find his blanket over you, you’d fold it up and place it by him. But what killed the young dwarf the most was the fact that you wouldn’t even look at him, and you didn’t do it with such conviction, too, as if your eyes landing upon his features would cause you to turn to stone. That was preposterous, of course, but damn it all! He missed you!

For you, there was a simple reason for gazing everywhere but at Kili’s face. If you didn’t see the puppy dog eyes, they would have no effect on you. Plain and simple. Although, after a couple days of this, you were beginning to miss him, too. This had gone on for long enough. It was childish behavior on your part--both Bilbo and Fili had said so--but they did not know what he had done! And to fix things between the two of you, a talk would have to happen, one you weren’t sure you were ready to have since it would involve bringing up the fact he had been peeping on you down at the river.

So things continued to be painful for the Company, as neither of you could find the will to broach the subject with the other, until the two of you had no choice but to have that awkward conversation. 

The setting? Mirkwood’s dungeon.

#kili x reader #kili imagine #kili x you #kili x y/n #kili fanfic #kili fanfiction #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit reader-insert #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #tolkien imagine #tolkien reader-insert #tolkien x reader #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien fanfic #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings reader-insert #lord of the rings x reader #imaginexhobbit #lord of the rings fanfic #lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr imagine #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #lotr reader-insert #reader-insert #lotr x reader

[cassieschaosdimension]

The First Train Ride

The first chapter of Snake Befriending Lion by Bookdragonfanish on AO3! Please feel free to check it out to leave a comment or kudo if you haven't already!

*THIS IS NOT EDITED YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!*

Eleven year old Draco Malfoy stands on Platform Nine and Three Quarters hoping for a glimpse of the boy who lived. He, like everyone else in the Wizarding world, had grown up hearing his name. The story was one of legend and he wondered if Harry remembered it all. He was interrupted in his thoughts by two rambunctious red headed boys who brushed past him laughing loudly. He heard his father give a sniff of disapproval.

He pitied the boys even though he knew nothing about them. His father, Lucius Malfoy, was notorious for making sure none of his enemies were around to stop him. Draco had always wondered about the company his parents kept, much preferring to stay in his room whilst they had any visitors at all.

"Draco darling," that was his mother. He sauntered over to where she was and listened to what she had to say. "Draco, Remember no matter what happens at school, your father and I love you very much. We will write you as soon as we get home and eagerly await your owl. Chin up, back straight. Malfoys and Blacks do not slouch."

Nodding his head, Draco says "Yes mother. I love both of you too. And I can't wait to see the castle with the lake and my classes. Mum, do you think people will like me? What if I can't make any friends? I don't want to hang out with Blaise or Crabbe and Goyle or Pansy. They're mean and stuck up to people."

"Just be yourself darling and remember what I told you. Go see your father." Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy, formerly known as Black, was a thin woman who demanded respect when she walked into a room. No one ever knew what she was thinking, but one thing they knew was she loved her family dearly. She would do anything to keep her son safe and away from harm.

Draco walks over to his father. "Draco, while you're at Hogwarts please try to remember we are not like the others. We are of noble blood and we must be treated as such. Do not let others get you down. You are a Malfoy and the name of Malfoy has demanded respect for centuries. Do not mess it up. Have fun at Hogwarts, but do not forget what I have told you. Get on the train.

Mr. Lucius Malfoy did not have the best childhood and when Narcissa became pregnant he vowed to protect his son from harm. He did this by only letting him intermingle with those of his own kind. He made sure his son had a normal childhood. Well as normal as he would let him.

After hugging and kissing his mother and shaking hands with his father Draco runs excitedly onto the train waiting to see if he could make any friends before he even got to Hogwarts. After looking into one compartment on the train he shies away from that one. It had really tall, really loud people in it! He didn't want that at all.

Another compartment had only girls. His only experience with girls his own age had been Pansy and he wasn't eager to find out if all girls were like her. She was enough to deal with. He wanted a group of guy friends. Crabbe and Goyle did what he said because his father was the boss of their fathers. They weren't his friends. They had to do whatever he said and he didn't like it. He remembered asking them if they could come out on the moors with him to look for gnomes at four. Crabbe threw an absolute fit. Goyle had to drag Crabbe after Draco as he flounced off to the moors. Draco was extremely put out, but when he looked back and saw the two of them lumbering after him, he brightened up.

Another memory he had was Christmas when he was seven and he wanted to play in the snow after the meal. Crabbe and Goyle were stuffing their faces and didn’t want to leave the food. He went to complain to his mother. What happened next was what he expected, but he felt guilty about it. His mother went over to their mothers and practically demanded their sons play with him. Draco only wanted some real playmates. That was the year he realized he might never have real friends. Crabbe and Goyle weren’t as smart as he was so he could never have the stimulating conversations he had with his mother over their daily afternoon tea.

They weren’t going to have genuine fun with him. This is when he learned he could make the two boys do his bidding. He started to turn from the carefree happy boy he once was in the open into a cold hearted, manipulative person who closed off his emotions to please his father. However, he did keep some of himself when he snuck down into the kitchens for a late night talk with the house elves. They were his only real friends growing up besides his mother.

Whenever Pansy and her parents came over she was so mean to the poor house elves. She was always talking to them as if they were the gum on the bottom of her patent leather flats. The way she ordered them to take her outerwear was shocking to Draco. As she grew up, he watched her parents not able to say no to her. She got everything she asked for. It was sickening for him to watch. Once she got to ten years of age, Draco was spending all of his time with Crabbe and Goyle because two buffoons were better than one spoiled brat. Draco always went and apologized for her behavior to the elves in the dead of night. The house elves were sad to see him go off to school, but they were excited too.

"Excuse me. Coming through. Lee has a tarantula for us to look at. Budge along." It’s the two rambunctious red headed boys who had brushed him going onto the platform. When they get to Draco, their happy looks sour.

The one on the right looks at the one on the left and says "Pardon me your Highness. Will you let us pass to get to our compartment?" Draco doesn't like the tone he uses. He isn't doing anything wrong. The train hasn't even started to move yet!

"Oh yeah," Draco presses himself up against the wall to let the two pass. He doesn't like these two and hopes he won't have to interact with them in class. They looked older, definitely not first years. In fact, all of these people looked a lot older than he was.

Draco was starting to get scared and started to stumble across the long, velvet carpeted, hallway separating the compartments from the platform.

With each peek into a compartment, he starts to worry. He had yet to see any people who looked like first years. At one compartment he sees Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy and immediately lurches past with his head down.

Shaken up at seeing them, he steps into a random compartment and is relieved to see a round faced brown haired boy with a toad sitting next to him. This boy looked like a first year like him.

"May I sit down?" Draco asked politely.

The boy looked to Draco and jumped in surprise. "Yes... yes you can. My name is Neville ummm, Neville Longbottom and this is Trevor." He gestured to the tod sitting next to him. "Sit down and…” He looks at the window with a blush on his cheeks and wide eyes. “Ummm, make yourself comfortable. Please um, please make sure you close the compartment door so Trevor doesn’t escape.”

Grinning at the warm greeting, Draco complies. He sticks out his hand and says, "I'm Draco Malfoy. It's really nice to meet you Neville! I hope we can be friends!"

At the name Malfoy, Neville shoots up in his seat in alarm and starts to look around as if an escape hatch will appear so he can disappear. "M-mal-malfoy?! As in the Death Eaters?!" He started to fidget and panic.

Draco looks at the poor boy in utter confusion. "Former Death Eaters. Are you okay Neville?"

Eyes wide in fright, Neville grabs Trevor and huddles at the furthest edge of the compartment from Draco, as if he has a disease. Draco wants to cry. Here is a first year boy who looks terrified of him because of his name. He doesn't understand why Neville is petrified. His parents weren't Death Eaters anymore and they only did it because He - Who - Must - Be - Named made them! All he wants is a real friend!

Draco on the verge of tears, turns to go. As soon as he opens the door he's met with a mane of brown, frizzy, bushy hair. He falls backwards in shock and hears a whimper from Neville.

"Hello. Everywhere else is full. They're about to depart so would you mind letting me into the compartment? That would be wonderful." The bushy haired girl says with authority. "I would like to be seated when the lurch is felt.” Pushing past an astonished Draco with only an “excuse me”, she falls into the just vacant seat Neville left only moments earlier.

She pushes past him and Draco stands up; when he's turned around the scene he looks at is chaotic.

Neville stands up to leap after Trevor, who with the door open, makes his way, hopping faster than Draco expects towards freedom.

All else forgotten. Neville screams "Grab him!" The bushy haired girl lunges for the toad and misses. Now it's Draco's turn to redeem himself in Neville's eyes. He too lunges for the toad and manages to grasp his left hind leg before he falls flat on his face, his grip loosening on the toad who hops away unaware of the chaos he has caused.

Neville's face is distraught. "My great uncle Algie gave me Trevor when I got accepted into Hogwarts! I’m a pureblood you see and most of my family believed I was a Squib for the longest time until I was eight. Uncle Algie pushed me off the Blackpool Pier.” Gasps are heard throughout the compartment. “Don’t worry. I bounced all the way down. Uncle Algie was so pleased he gave me Trevor! Now, can we please go after him?”

Draco and the girl exchange concerned glances. Draco knows that any Wizarding family will have almost all of their family members accepted unless they're a Squib and he's certain his family tree doesn't have any Squibs.

"You're a pureblood?" Draco cautiously asks, accidentally falling onto the girl who just sat down as the train gives a lurch. He hasn’t looked at the family tree since his father forced him to glance at it when he was six. Draco strains to hear Neville’s answer, but with the train moving steadily now, there’s no way to hear Neville at the volume he speaks at.

The girl huffs and moves to give Draco room to sit and he smiles gratefully at her. He's never seen her before and she seems to give off the same air he does. He wonders if she's a pureblood from another country. As she speaks again, he realizes she doesn’t know a thing about the Wizarding community in Britain and the surrounding areas.

"Oh purebloods! I've read about them. They're the silly witches and wizards who think that half-bloods and Muggleborns are scum. I find that absolutely atrocious as I am a Muggleborn myself," the girl turns to Draco. "My guess is you're a pureblood?"

When he nods she starts to lecture him. "You all should be ashamed of yourselves! I read that if you guys didn't marry outside of your circle you would have died out! The mindset is completely rubbish and shouldn't even be put into practice. And at a school no less!"

Neville and Draco look at her in shock, eyes wide and face awash with horror. For such a tiny girl she can inflict fear into anyone with that tone. "I'm Hermione Granger. And what House do you hope to be in? Personally I want to end up in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor as Slytherin seems filled with selfish and mean people and Hufflepuff seems filled with pushovers."

At this Draco swells. "Excuse me! My whole family has been in Slytherin for centuries and I can tell you we are not selfish and mean people! We care for the greater good!"

Neville seems to shrink into his corner again at the last three words and Draco instantly regrets the words he unconsciously let spill from his mouth. He wants Neville as a friend and now maybe he won't want to be his friend!

Hermione turns towards him so fast her hair slaps him in the face. "You sound like Grindelwald! He sounded like you! Are you a supporter of He Who Must be Named?! They were both awful men! How can you sit there saying that when they did such horrible things!"

An even greater fear starts to creep into his eyes. These two do not like him. He is only repeating what he's heard his parents say! Should he say that? The words pop out before he can stop them. "My parents taught me that and I'm sorry if that was wrong all I want are real friends for once! Please give me a chance!"

Hermione looks at Neville and walks over to him. They converse in hushed voices. Draco's heart begins to sink. Will they give him a chance to be their friend?! All he wants is a real friend he can count on! He doesn't think he wants to be a Malfoy if this is what the name gives him. Why did he have to be born a Malfoy?

The waiting is agonizing. It seems like forever when they suddenly turn to him and Neville says, "How do we know you're not lying? Your mum's sister made my parents insane! "

Hermione rubs his back reassuringly and looks at Draco. "Okay, we don't trust you, but we are willing to give you a chance because we believe you can be good at heart. You get one chance. If you mess up, we won’t be your friend anymore. Now... please help us find Trevor. He's special to Neville and he doesn't want to start Hogwarts without him. Please help us look for him."

Draco senses a wonderful opportunity and stands eagerly with a frantic nod and wide grin. "Where do you want to start? Should we split up or stay together? Personally I think we should stay together because all of those people out there are scary."

The two stare at him in shock. They were not expecting him to jump up so suddenly and agree wholeheartedly.

Hermione says split up and Neville agrees, but then Draco points out no one will tell him anything since almost everyone knows who he is. Finally it’s agreed Neville will go on his own and Draco and Hermione will ask together.

Neville heads off to the left towards the front of the train. Hermione and Draco head towards the back of the train.

In the first few compartments they check, the students seated will only tell Hermione if they saw Trevor and ignored Draco completely. He wants to cry. Is the Malfoy name really making people not like him?! But they don't even know him! How are they supposed to know they don't like him if they don't know him?!

The last compartment holds two boys: one very red headed and one with round glasses and black hair. Draco hangs back behind Hermione’s hair as she asks the boys about Trevor.They respond no and turn away from the two toad hunters. The red headed boy pulls out a wand and Draco inches closer to see what spell he’ll utter. He’s watched Pansy wave her wand around since she went to Diagon Alley the day after she got her acceptance letter. He didn’t watch her because he didn’t want to associate himself with her and her ways. His mother made him promise not to use his wand until his first class because he could hurt people and he agreed.

The red haired boy says something about rats, daisies and yellow. As expected, the rat does not turn yellow. Hermione scoffs and then fixes the black haired boy's glasses.

When the red haired boy introduces himself as Ron Weasley, Draco wrinkles his nose. He can't help it. His father says the Weasleys are blood traitors and Mugglelovers. He was always taught they were bad, but now he's not so sure.

Then when the black haired boy says his name is Harry Potter, Draco surges forward. As he comes into view Ron turns away in disgust and he deflates a little bit. He's going to have to be careful in how he says things. "Hello! My name is Draco Malfoy and I'm also looking for Neville's toad. I'm assuming since this is the last compartment he's not here. Hermione, I'm going to head back to the compartment to see if Neville found him."

Ron stares at him in shock. “You’re a Malfoy? But you’re nice?” Turning to Harry, he whispers audibly, “The Malfoys were the biggest supporters of You - Know - Who.

With a smile and wave goodbye he leaves the three of them stunned into silence. The smile falls off his face as he trudges with a heavy heart towards the compartment to put his robes on. He realizes he should only stick to the people he has already met and he vows to steer clear of Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy for as long as he can and since they'll be in Slytherin like him it'll be hard. He'll manage; he always has.

He puts his robes in in the empty compartment and waits for Neville and Hermione to come back. Hopefully they will since their trucks are here. Smiling to himself, he stares out the window, already imaging what fun things he can do with his new friends!

#draco malfoy #draco pov #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #eleven year old draco

[desdemonafictional]

The Erl King

To begin with, it’s important you know that the roads in Drusselstein did not get paved until 2003, when the project was undertaken by some private investors interested in building an export market in the USA. As of 2012, five percent of the country’s population owned one hundred percent of the country’s automobiles. Forty years ago, it could still have passed for a medieval kingdom.

It was 1976, and the carriage made a heavy thudding sound on the shadowy ground as it lurched over half buried trees and washed out gullies. The driver was a Doofenshmirtz man, his expression comfortably grim as he urged the rented nags over various obstacles. They made decent time, although the horses were as old as they were ungainly—domesticated animals do not favor the forests of Drusselstein. Wild animals don’t particularly care for them either, but those don’t have much of a choice.

High above them, the white half globe of the moon flickered between withering leaves. It was autumn, and the man’s family had been journeying to the capital to apply for yet another loan, before the year dwindled down to nothing. Prospects so far remained grim.

The wagon contained five bodies, four human. There was a dog, the man and his wife, and two boys. They had started off from the capital when the sun was high in the sky, and the man had silently refused equally silent requests to pause for the night at an inn at the border of the forest. It was common knowledge that wood trolls were attracted to the sound of carriage wheels after night fall, but the village of Gimmelshtump was only an hour away once you passed the tree line, and the man had not been in the mood to let some trolls that might or might not even be in this region of the forest dictate his actions.

He was, in addition to simply being a man, a Drusselstenian man. This meant that he was never entirely unarmed when it came to the monsters of the countryside.

In the back of the carriage—more of a covered wagon, really—the man’s oldest son sat with his hands cinched around his knees. He had spent a hefty chunk of his relatively short life as a lawn gnome—and would spend more, most likely, if his father’s business with the bank had gone as badly as it sounded—which gave him some familiarity with the dangers of unprotected spaces. Witches, spells, wood trolls, der kinderlumper, so on and so forth. He was eleven years old, and he was fairly certain that he’d like to live to be twelve regardless of how much he did not want to see Big Black Boots Boris on Monday. Driving through the forest at night seemed to be a good way to make sure neither ever happened.

His name was Heinz, which is usually short for something else but in this case was not.

Heinz looked out the back of the carriage. It was open to the darkness, and the road wound out behind them like a pale silver thread.

Now, wood trolls. He could deal with wood trolls. Everybody knew what to do with them, and given enough preparation they’d hardly slow you down. Witches were trickier, but they didn’t usually wander the roads at night. Witches were more the house keeping types. Bats and goozims were probably more of a threat than—

Child.

Heinz let go of his knees and crawled to the edge of the wagon. He heard something, underneath the rattle of wheels and the creaking planks, like a third set of hooves. It had a ghostly uncertainty to it, not quite consistent enough for an echo and not quite solitary enough to be real. Heinz looked back at his mother, seated beside his father at the front of the wagon with her hands squarely in her lap, and bit his lip. She’d ordered him to be silent, but that was hours ago, and besides, she never remembered to give him back speaking privileges. If he didn’t carefully forget after a day or so, he’d never get to talk at all.

Child.

A sound like a voice slipped in through the cracks in the rattling carriage.  Heinz jerked back from the darkness and searched wildly in every direction for the source of the sound, another traveler or perhaps a radio, and found nothing but his parents and his little brother, exactly as they were.

Heinz swallowed.

Carefully, he leaned over the back of the carriage to get a look at the ground. It was probably too much to ask for the wheels to be trailing a bell or some strange noisy junk, but he’d rather not jump to conclusions.

The wind whistled, but it was not a voice. There was nothing under the wheels.

“Child,” the darkness said, “come with me.”

Heinz toppled backwards and skittered across the bouncing wooden floor, heels pushing wildly at the planks until his back was pressed up flat against the back of his mother’s chair.

“Mama,” he hissed, eyes fixed on the featureless night beyond the bounds of their walls. “Mama there’s something out there.”

“I told you to be silent,” his mother replied. Her voice was colder than the moonlight across the dirt.

“I know, I know, but there’s something out there,” he said. “I can hear it talking.”

“How can you hear anything over the rumbling of this two bit rental,” she said, as motionless as ever. It wasn’t a question, Heinz was pretty sure of that.

“I can hear it,” he insisted, “there’s a voice, and hooves, and it wants me to go somewhere with it.”

His mother shifted. Something he’d said must have done the trick, because she turned back for a moment to glance over her shoulder at little Roger, who was sitting placidly across the carriage, staring harmlessly at nothing.

"Do you hear anything, darling?" she asked the smaller boy, a hint of reserved worry around her deep set eyes.

"No mama," Roger said.

The moon went dark behind a canopy on the road ahead. Any emotion in his mother’s face died. “There,” she said, “then there is nothing Heinz. Be silent.”

"But mama, I heard it—"

His mother snorted. “Roger heard nothing,” she said. “And elves only come for beautiful children. It is the wind in the leaves.”

And with that, she returned to her motionless vigil.

Heinz scowled at his brother. “Why didn’t you tell her?”

Roger gave him a mild look that was altogether too mature for a six-year-old’s face. “I didn’t hear anything,” he replied. “It’s late. I’m going to sleep the rest of the way.”

Roger’s meaningful look slipped right past Heinz, who was already crawling back to the end of the carriage. The younger boy gave up on further communication at that point—even at six years old, Roger was aware that his brother was by nature strange and irrational. High strung.

Heinz leaned over the edge again, this time searching the tangles of branches along the road side for a hint of motion in the darkness. The alder trees rose high and curving, and empty of everything except the wind. Heinz sighed and sat down again, resting his forehead against the sill. Maybe it was nothing.

“Child.”

Heinz froze.

“You, dear child.”

He twisted his head. “Roger,” he hissed, “Roger do you hear that?”

His brother only made an irritated six-year-old noise and rolled over onto his side, firmly avoiding the problem. No help from that quarter, then. Heinz took a deep breath and turned back to the window.

Out in the inky night, he could make out the shadowy figure of what might have been a mounted rider in the tangle of the undergrowth, moving with eerie speed through the dense brush.

“You, dear child,” it called, “come, go with me.”

Heinz leaned out the window. “I’m sorry mister,” he called out, only a little louder than the sounds of the carriage. “My brother is sleeping, I don’t think he wants to go anywhere with you!”

The shadow figure’s horse balked, danced sideways, and then ducked gracefully out onto the piecemeal illumination of the road.

“I’m sorry,” the rider said, a new and uncertain note in its echoing voice. “Who?”

The rider, as best Heinz could see, was striking and male, and wore in his long knotted hair a spired crown with peaks like the knobs of old branches. His face was a dark pane of shadows, with glinting pinpricks of light where the eyes were—should be, Heinz amended uneasily. He wasn’t certain.

“Roger,” he answered, dutifully. “My brother. He’s not interested, um, please try back some other night?”

The black horse tossed its head, a mane like cobwebs fluttering against the night. The rider cantered forward, slipping into a more casual distance, head tilted curiously. Closer up, he was more strange than frightening. Heinz had always found that things were less frightening up close, where you could see the seams. Take wildcats for example. Way less scary when they weren’t stalking you through the underbrush.

“Ah,” the rider said, peering past Heinz into the dim space of the wagon. “I didn’t know she had a son.”

“What?” said Heinz. He started to build up some indignation, but then, why bother, he’d been mistaken for a servant before. He went with the more important question. “Do you know my mother?”

The rider regarded him silently for a moment, and then inclined his head. The wicked peaks of his thorny crown glinted. “I am the Erl King,” he said.

“A king?” Heinz repeated, scrambling up over the back of the wagon. He perched there, as close as he could get to the rider. “Can you give my father a loan? Or are you a poor king? My father is a poor baron, that’s what he says.”

“I am rich,” the Erl King said, “but I have more valuable boons than money to grant men. Power, talent, charms, a really excellent peach cobbler recipe—”

“Oh,” sighed Heinz. “He doesn’t want any of that.”

The Erl King cleared his throat. Or whatever passed for a throat. “Right. Ah. So. Come, dear child, go with me.”

Heinz frowned. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

The king reached back like he was rubbing his neck with one twisted hand. “Er. Come away with me.”

“Come away where?”

“To… my kingdom?”

“Oh.” Heinz paused, took that in for a moment. “What, like on a vacation?”

“…Sure. A lengthy… holiday.”

“Gosh, let me tell mama, she wants to go on a vacation so badly, this is great.”

“No, no, hold on,” the Erl King cut in hastily, “not your family. Just you.”

“Me?” Heinz said.

“You.”

Heinz considered this. After a moment, he glanced back at his brother, sleeping placidly with his knees pressed up against the back of their parents’ seats. Something clicked into place.

“But,” Heinz said slowly, “elves only take beautiful children. You are an elf, aren’t you?”

“I am something of that nature, yes.”

“So… why me?”

The Erl King blinked—you could tell because the twin liquid pinpricks of his eyes darkened for the flash of a second. He trotted forward again, horse keeping effortless pace with the rumbling wagon. He leaned in, over the neck of his mount, and peered at Heinz. On the lit pane of his cheekbone, Heinz could barely make out a twisting curling pattern, like the limbs of a very old tree.

“Men have such strange concepts of beauty,” the Erl King murmured. “Child, you are not like them.”

Heinz’s spine stiffened. “I am too! I’m just like everyone else!”

“No,” the Erl King replied, “you really are not.”

“I’m going back in the wagon,” Heinz threatened, throwing a leg over the wall just to demonstrate how serious he was.

The king didn’t seem particularly worried. “You have talent, dear child. Much talent. Come away with me, and I will show you how to make the most of that—my kingdom is hungry for artists, you would never be without admirers.”

“What--Me?”

“There will be dancing,” the Erl King went on, casually, “and there is always food, lovely endless food the likes of which you will never taste elsewhere. I have daughters who would play with you, any game you like. We have many beautiful old things that need to be fixed. You could be very useful to us. We would be so very grateful.”

“Dancing?” Heinz echoed, a little bit behind the curve. “Like—for fun?”

“You enjoy dancing,” the Erl King said, and it wasn’t a question.

Heinz glanced around, nervously, but no one was listening to him. “Yes,” he whispered.

“Come away with me,” the king said, offering one knotted dark hand towards the boy. “No one will tell you to stop breathing so loudly, or to be still, and you will always have a bed.”

“Um,” said Heinz. “That sounds really great, but—”

He looked again over his shoulder, at the shapes of his family in the darkness. He knew enough at age eleven to know that he wasn’t happy, and that maybe he had never been. Other people were happy, even Roger seemed happy enough. Kids at school. Uncles. Dogs. If it was possible for them, then why not him too?

The hand waited, extended patiently into the void between the monstrous horse and the creaking wagon. Heinz considered it. He had heard a little bit about elves, just enough to know that people didn’t like them very much. They took children. Well, people also didn’t like him much, and at least this elf was asking first.

Heinz sighed. “I’m sorry, your highness. I can’t go with you.”

The Erl King retracted his hand. “Dear child, you can’t be serious.”

Heinz gestured helplessly toward his family’s vague shapes. “I can’t, I—I already ran away once, I had to come back. They need me.”

The Erl King regarded him with his strange eyes, black and hooded. “They don’t love you,” he observed, a touch reproachfully.

Heinz flattened his lips, stared into the empty darkness. “I can make them,” he said.

The fairy horse tossed its head and stamped, losing distance as the wagon rattled on. The Erl King regarded Heinz with something almost like sadness. An alien, curious sadness.

“I only offer,” he said, finally. “I cannot take you by force.”

Heinz shivered. “Thanks for the offer, then, your majesty. I appreciate the thought.”

The king inclined his head.

Half an hour later, the wagon arrived in the village of Gimmelshtump, wheels shaking ominously on their posts. The man and his wife went to unload their dog and their children and bring them inside the house, only to find their eldest son huddled at the back of the contraption where the windchill bit hardest. His skin was paler than the fading moonlight, and worryingly cold to the touch. The man and his wife exchanged a glance, lifted up their son, and silently carried him to his small bedroom.

In a day or so, the fever passed, and the boy survived.

#phineas and ferb #the original tumblr mirror is broken somehow so.... #and it was on the wrong blog anyway so let's fix that

[mbavholidayexchange]

to @rowsha from @pixiepaintt

title: pumpkin pasties and unspoken promises

rating: teen and up audiences

summary:

Benny wasn’t the biggest fan of pumpkin pasties. They were too sweet and too savory and the flavors all mashed into one nasty confection he could hardly call a treat. He'd avoided them ever since his first year.

But when a blonde-headed vampire asks him to try one, he can't bring himself to say no...

ao3 link: link

content:

Benny wasn’t the biggest fan of pumpkin pasties.

They were savory, filled with rich sage and toasted garlic, yet also sweetly crusted with browned sugar and butter. He wasn’t typically a picky eater; he would scarf down most of the Great Hall if it weren’t for those stingy elves (once, he’d snuck into the kitchen at night for pudding and woke up all of the teachers with his screams). But something about the pumpkin pasties made him wince. He wished they would just pick a flavor category and stick to it.

Rory loved them. Every Saturday morning, as the three boys walked to breakfast together, he’d ramble about how long the weekdays had been and how he would give anything for the pumpkin pasties to be available every morning. He usually raced to the hall to gather up all of the pasties from the Gryffindor table for himself; then he’d eventually feel bad and return a couple. Of course, he kept the majority for himself, but it was the thought that counted.

Benny, despite his disdain for the fickle pastries, would never outwardly show it because he was a good friend. His way of showing affection often coincided with insults, but he didn’t want to seriously hurt his friends. Even if Rory liked the grossest food known to warlock, he deserved at least some happiness.

Right now, he wasn’t happy. The two Gryffindor boys were stood outside Ethan’s dorm room at ten minutes past eight. By now, they should be in the Great Hall loading their plates full of the weekend delicacies but a certain someone was too concerned about his likability.

“Guys, do you think Sarah likes straight hair or gelled hair?” Ethan called from across the door.

“Dude, who cares, the pumpkin pasties are probably all gone by now,” Rory wailed, “I’m doomed to eat sticky pancakes and oily hashbrowns for life!”

Benny slung an arm around his shoulder, trying to suppress his laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get some,” Benny promised, grinning.

Rory let out a pleased squeal– seriously, what kind of teenage boy squealed?– and turned to crush Benny in a hug. He was definitely the most physically affectionate of the group and Benny didn’t mind one bit. Except for the fact that he valued his life.

“Watch the bones,” Benny grimaced, “some of us are mortal.”

He was immediately released and prodded at, a bashful Rory checking for any damage. It wasn’t his fault; vampire strength was hard to control, especially as a newborn. He got excited easily and wanted to share his happiness with his friends, but it unfortunately sometimes ended in a broken bone or two. Fortunately, Benny was good at crafting excuses to get Madam Pomfrey to heal them.

“Sorry, Benny,” Rory softly amended with a pout when he was satisfied with his inspection. Something tender filled Benny’s chest, easy and comforting. It made him want to pull Rory back into a hug even if it meant broken ribs. It made him feel like he was safe. It made him feel like his smile would last forever.

“Yeah, uh, no problem,” he replied, trying to not let his giddiness show.

And, just like that, the moment was over. Rory gave him a big smile and turned back to the door, rapping on its poor creaky wood.

“Ethan, Benny said he’s going to get me pumpkin pasties! He’s my bestest best friend now!” Rory yelled.

A few of the Ravenclaws in the boys’ commons glanced over and frowned at the commotion, sighing when they saw Benny and Rory. They technically weren’t allowed in other houses’ dormitories, but they snuck in so much that no one cared to confront them anymore. Benny smiled weakly and half-heartedly waved.

“Not my fault I’m the only one with any chance with a girl!” Ethan yelled back, then paused, “Sorry! I’m just freaking out. Do you think Sarah would prefer a more floral or woodsy cologne? I was thinking about an earthy scent but that might be overwhelming for her vampire senses. Do you think Jesse wears expensive cologne? He probably does. Hey, Benny, do you have any more of that pheromone stuff?”

//

By the time they reached the Great Hall, most of the students were finishing breakfast. As soon as the doors opened, Rory was rushing to the Gryffindor table, oblivious to all of the students he knocked over to get there. Benny winced.

Ethan was still frozen in the entrance, staring at Sarah not-so-subtly. Benny nudged him and waved a hand in front of his flushed face. He was fairly sure that Ethan had pencilled in his eyebrows.

“Hello, earth to E,” he joked. Ethan blanched and frantically turned to Benny, eyes wide.

“Oh Merlin, I should have gone with the floral cologne!”

“Yeah, guess you’ve ruined your chance forever,” Benny dryly responded before laughing at Ethan’s petrified expression, “I’m kidding. Go get ‘em, tiger.” He winked and pushed Ethan toward the Ravenclaw table. He would go with him, as a wingman, but he’d rather not leave food-crazed Rory alone with the first-years.

  So as much as he wanted to valiantly shield Rory from all of the nasty looks and middle fingers being thrown his direction, he knew that Rory didn’t want conflict. He wanted comfort.

  As soon as Benny turned his attention back to the young vampire, he sighed. Rory was plucking all of the pasties from the table– even the ones on plates– and curling around them protectively. He had garnered more than a few glares from the rest of the house members. Rory spotted Benny and waved giddily, his mouth full and spirits high. Benny always admired him for that: he never seemed to care what strangers thought about him. He would wear the most outlandish clothes and talk about the most obscure things and just… deflected any mockery that came his way. At first, Benny had thought he was just oblivious to the sniggering and badgering, but when he tried to confront the bullies, Rory stopped him and told him that it didn’t matter. No one else’s opinion mattered– only his friends’.

  Benny walked over to the table and sat next to him, giving him a warm smile.

“You know, it’s not very swagalicious to steal food,” Benny chuckled, bumping shoulders with Rory as he sat down. Rory gasped, quickly swallowing his food.

  “R-Dawg has more swag than you’ll ever know,” Rory adamantly defended, scowling, “R-Dawg invented swag. Check it!”  He then began making various noises and swinging his hands in what Benny assumed to be beatboxing. This earned him even more glares.

  Benny rolled his eyes and started piling his plate up with food: cinnamon-buttered toast, black pudding, bacon, and a large heaping of sugar donuts. He was quite famished from his late-night DND campaign (and his subsequent adventure of sneaking Ethan back into the Ravenclaw dorms afterward).

  “We need to bring the Muse-A-Tronics back!” Rory whisper-yelled to him, eyes sparkling.

  “And lose the tiny bit of dignity I have left?” Benny whisper-yelled back.

  “Maybe it would make Erica finally notice you,” Rory quipped, looking back down at his plate in something akin to nervosity.

  “It would make all the primo babes notice me,” Benny boasted, puffing out his chest dramatically. Truthfully, he valued Erica more as a friend (and was pretty sure she wasn’t into men) but he didn’t want to admit it. His friends had teased him about it long enough that it felt wrong to confess– it felt wrong to even acknowledge himself. When he started thinking about romance, he started thinking about Rory, and then he started feeling guilt and– he preferred to not think about it.

  “Girls love that macho piano playing,” Rory affirmed, something pensive in his tone, almost hesitant. He picked at the crust of his toast.

  Benny frowned at his arbitrary dejection and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, bringing him in for a quick side-hug. There was a strong need arising in him to console Rory, a mixture of guilt and sympathy. He patted his shoulder and broke apart the contact, feeling foolish for something he didn’t know how to describe.

  “Don’t worry, MC MonsterBat will be a lady-killer for sure,” Benny said.

  “Who are we killing?” Ethan asked, sitting across from Benny and grabbing an orange.

  “Just women,” Benny shrugged, “Speaking of, how’d it go with Sarah?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  Ethan facepalmed and shook his head.

  “You don’t want to know,” he groaned.

  “Aw c’mon, I’m great at love advice!”

  “B, last time you tried to hit on a girl, you had your eyebrows singed off,” Ethan deadpanned.

“That fireworks spell was trickier than I thought!”

  “The time before that, you almost drowned.”

  “In my defense, the textbooks make mermaids seem really sweet.”

  Ethan just laughed and started peeling apart his orange. He found Benny’s outlandish flirting style amusing, but he had learned to keep a distance whenever it involved magic.

  Rory had been developing a frown throughout the conversation, glaring at his orange juice. He seemed to suddenly decide something and looked up, tugging on Benny’s shirt.

  “Benny, do you want to try one?” He asked hopefully.

  “One what?” Benny hesitantly responded.

  “A pumpkin pastie! AKA the most delicious thing in the world,” Rory cheerfully coaxed, picking up the biggest one he had and offering it reverently. He was so heartened and upbeat that Benny couldn’t bring himself to tell him no.

  The smile on Rory’s face was infectious, and soon Benny was grinning widely too. Rory could probably ask him to eat an earwax jelly bean and he’d agree to it– just because it was Rory. 

  “Uhh, sure, I’ll try a bite,” he said, not missing how Rory’s face lit up adorably or how he pulled him infinitesimally closer. He gently took the pumpkin pastie from Rory’s hands and bit into it without any hesitance.

  To be fair, he still didn’t like it. It had too many clashing flavors and the nutmeg was overpowering. But, when he saw the blush growing on Rory’s face and the way his eyes crinkled with joy, he found himself taking another bite, and another…

  “Do you like it?” Rory excitedly asked, biting into his own pastie and beaming.

  Benny nodded and finished it off, licking his fingers off (and if Rory’s eyes were caught on his lips, neither of them acknowledged it).

  “Yeah, it’s a very unique flavor,” he said. He didn’t want to lie; he was just stretching the truth.

  “You can admit it, it’s the best food in the world,” Rory stuck out his tongue. Benny just laughed and shook his head.

  “Oh, B, you should try the fruitcake next! You always refuse even though it’s my favorite,” Ethan interjected, glancing around the table and grabbing a slice to hold out.

  “No offense, but that is probably the nastiest thing I’ve ever seen. I’d rather face Moldy Voldy than dried figs and prunes trying to disguise themselves as a cake.” Benny fake gagged and scrunched his nose up. He had a rich sweet tooth and could say for certain that fruitcake was not included in that. It barely even counted as sweet.

  “But you just ate the pumpki– Oh. Oh, of course,” Ethan grinned and flickered his eyes between Benny and Rory, “I’m bloody dumb.”

  Rory quizzically looked up from his food and managed a “Hmhuh?” through a full mouth. Benny raised his eyebrows. He usually shared a brain cell with Ethan and could tell what the other was thinking, but he had no clue what was making Ethan laugh so much. He had long since made his hatred for dried fruit known.

  Ethan shook his head and smiled at both of them.

  “Nothing to be worried about. Did you guys want to head to the Quidditch field later?”

  //

  The next Saturday, Benny was the first one up.

“Rory, get up! It’s breakfast time!” He yelled, untangling himself from his sheets.

From the bed over, Rory groaned and hid his face in his pillow. He had spent the entire night getting “food” in the Forbidden Forest. Benny didn’t want to know any more than that.

There was an odd spike of excitement running through him; he just knew that he had to get to the Great Hall as soon as possible. He’d been looking forward to it the entire week, constantly thinking about the darned pumpkin pasties. Whenever he mentioned it, Ethan just gave him a wink.

“If you get up now, I’ll eat another pastie with you,” Benny added.

At that, Rory was standing up, fully awake.

“Really? You’d do that?”

Benny laughed and shrugged.

“Anything for you,” he said, immediately regretting it. That wasn’t a very bro-like thing to say. Rory didn’t seem to mind, though, brightly smiling at Benny and moving to get his robes out.

Benny opened his trunk as well, absentmindedly picking out his finest robes. It seemed like it was going to be a great morning.

//

The warm feeling in Benny’s chest didn’t dissipate. Truly, he knew what was causing it, but he wasn’t ready to face it yet; he wasn’t ready to face him. He felt like it could end any minute, and he couldn’t risk that.

He was a bit relieved when Ethan said he had to study for his midterms rather than go on the Hogsmeade trip. He didn’t want to leave his best friend alone on the weekend, but the prospect of going out with Rory was too exciting.

Hogwarts had just had its first snow, thinly carpeting the winter grass and stone paths in a soft reminder that winter was near. Hogsmeade was decorated in shiny red ribbons and glimmering icicles, sprinklings of mistletoe hanging from every signpost. The restaurants were particularly busy, drawing in onlookers with their warm stews and hot chocolates filling the chilly air with hearty aromas.

They had, as tradition, stopped by Honeydukes first to satisfy their cravings. Benny was sure to grab enough peppermint creams and sugar quills for Christmas; when in doubt, candy was the best gift option. Who would turn down Honeydukes?

They eventually ended up in the Three Broomsticks, properly cold and yearning for fish and chips. Benny had jumped right into his butterbeer, not caring at all how the froth gave him a mustache.

“I’ve died, I’ve died and reached heaven,” Benny bewailed, clinging onto his mug like it was the most precious thing in the world. Which it was.

Rory had the audacity to look offended. He had barely touched his drink, uncharacteristically distraught.

“You can’t die yet, dude, we haven’t beaten the Feudal Wars IV boss yet.”

Benny considered that for a second and then nodded approvingly.

“You’re right, yeah, I guess I have to hold on until then.”

“Can’t leave the Rorster hanging!”

“Of course not,” Benny chuckled, “You’d never be able to finish that round on your own.”

Rory flicked one of his chips at him, pouting. Benny sighed and gave him back a chip to equalize the transaction, squeezing Rory’s hand briefly as an apology.

“You have to admit though, I’m a god at the Feudal Wars series. I think I’m ranked twenty in the nation. Which, to be fair, there are only about a hundred players in Great Britain, but rankings in a multiplayer RPG are skewed anyway. I can’t wait until I’m back home so I can get back to–

“Benny.”

“What’s up?” He replied, taking a swig of his butterbeer and silently pretending that it was real alcohol to feel cooler. Rory hesitated and drummed his fingers on the wooden table.

“I… I know you don’t like pumpkin pasties.”

Benny froze, nearly choking on his drink.

“Dude, what? We’ve been eating them together every week,” he weakly rebutted. Rory rolled his eyes and smiled.

“I’m not a complete idiot,” Rory laughed, “I know you’ve hated them since first year.”

“But you–”

“I wanted to see if you would. Try one for me,” Rory said, leaning forward and resting his head on his palms. His fangs were ever-so-subtly peeking out.

“Oh.”6

Godric Gryffindor, he must have not been as smooth as he thought. What would Rory think of him now, lying about something so simple as a pastry? Normal friends don’t do that.

Benny lifted his head, mouth agape and ready to rush out an excuse, but– he was met with a blushing, embarrassed Rory. Who didn’t seem upset in the slightest.

“It’s cute,” he promised, reaching out for Benny’s hand and rubbing small circles on the back.

“I just– I didn’t want to make you sad, I’m sorry–” Benny stuttered, feeling exposed.

“Don’t apologize, B,” Rory insisted, “You know, to make it even, I’ll eat fruitcake for you.”

Benny furrowed his brows. It sounded almost like a confession– a reciprocation. Maybe they had both been hiding their attachment. Merlin, Ethan had probably stayed back at Hogwarts to make this happen. Well, not that Benny was complaining.

He squeezed Rory’s hand and smiled.

“That’s a bet.”

“Okay, tomorrow morning! I’ll prove it!” Rory asserted, biting his lip, “R-Money will prove his heart’s desire!”

“Moment ruined,” Benny teased fondly.

“Oh, do you prefer R-Dawg? Rorster? Ror-inator? R-Money? Batman? Ror–”

Benny pressed his thumb gently on his lips to quiet him.

“I just like Rory.”

//

By the time they left, the snow was sticking to the ground and the sun was peeking out. If they squinted, they could see Ethan cheering them on from his dorm window with two thumbs up. Damn seer abilities.

With Rory’s hand in his, cheeks red from more than just the cold, Benny took a moment to reconsider. Maybe he had liked the pumpkin pasties all along. He just hadn’t been able to appreciate their ambivalence– he hadn’t realized that if he had just let the flavors meld together, there didn’t need to be a schism.

He turned to Rory, giving him a chaste kiss on the forehead and running through the snow.

“Last one to the castle has to help Ethan get ready for his date tomorrow!”

#my babysitter's a vampire #mbav #rory keaner #benny weir #ethan morgan #submission

[weheirsofdurin]

Lets go for another fluff piece. (Pre-hobbit around the same time as the starter I did)

Five times Dwarvish Courting went over an elf’s head, one time it didn’t

Filirubbed at the smooth rock in his hand, the pad of his thumb catching on the only thing marking it’s surface. THe dwarven runes inlaid expertly caused his heart to pound heavily. Glancing down at the golden colored stone, the blue ruins a stark contrast.

His fond smile caught another’s attention and before he knew it, the elf named after the hero Glorfindel, stood before him. “What have you got there Master Dwarf?”

Looking up Fili hid the stone in his fist before wincing, it had been a startled reaction and nothing against his elven friend. “A gift.” He said simply then reaching out took Glorfindel’s hand and placed the stone within it. “There is lore that if you write on a stone and gift it to another, that it will come true.”

Turning on his heel the dwarf stormed off, back to his forge. Poor Glorfindel was left with the stone in his hand and dwarvish runes he did not understand glared up at him. “What was your wish, my little lion?” He wondered aloud in elvish before pocketing the stone.

Dwarves had such odd traditions at times.

.~:*:~.

Glorfindel entered the forge silently, as elves were known to do, and Fili never noticed the other man. Not at first. As he worked he hummed, mumbling words in a language Glorfindel had never thought to learn until now. He sang as he worked which the elf found endearing. When Fili turned and spotted him there was a hesitation in his movements and the song cut off.

“Lord elf, it is common courtesy to announce yourself upon entry to ones forge.” It was courtesy to announce oneself anywhere but Fili would not nit pick that for now.

“Ah, yes.” Glorfindel at least looked abashed at the slight chastisement. “You were singing so nicely though that I did not wish to interrupt.” This time it was Fili’s turn to turn a bright red on his nose and ears. “What iis it that you are making?”

“A gift.” Fili said and he set what looked to be the beginnings of a dagger onto a hot stone. His gloved hand held the prongs tight and his other hand reached for a hammer and he began to bang away. Immediately he began to sing again, the thrumm of the the song matching with the hammering and Fin found himself enthralled once again. This was how dwarves worked, how they kept pace, how their forges and weapons were so perfect. They sang to keep track and upon hitting certain points knew instinctively it was time to shift.

“Perhaps we can meet for dinner tomorrow eve, Lord Elf.” Fili spoke to Glorfindel as the metal blade was put back into the forge to heat back up.

Knowing a dismissal for what it was Glorfindel bowed. “Of course, Master Dwarf, I look forward to our meeting.”

WHen they did meet the following eve Fili and him only made it part way through their meal before a dwarf raced up to the blacksmith. “Fili, there’s a problem and we need you urgently.” Without hesitation Fili stood and there was an air of authority about him. Fin knew that Fili was in charge while the real leader was away so it made sense, but at the same time there was a regalness about this authority.

“Forgive me, Glorfindel, but I must go. I wished to properly give you this but please accept it even so,” REaching out Fili held a small dagger for Glorfindel, the leather that would wrap around his thigh looked old and worn, probably made from scraps previously. Accepting it he watched Fili run off and he pulled the blade from it’s sheathe. His breath caught.

This was a dwarven blade but its inlay was far more elven. The smooth curving lines which he realized were vines wrapped around the flat plane. Small thorns adorned it making the delicate lines sharp and threatening, the green pain practically glowed in the sun and along the hilt golden flowers were encrusted. Did Fili know of who he was to put this there? No he couldn’t. Fin had never told the dwarf who he was. Someone must have mentioned something though.

Wait- was this the blade Fili had been making yesterday?!

.~:*:~.

“Bugs?” Fili held a doubtful expression as he looked at his brother. He just could not believe it. Really. Elves thought bugs were appropriate for courting? That sounded too far-fetched.

“Aye, I heard it from Gimli who heard it from Gloin! Gloin said that he had met elves back in erebor and they were always giving each other bugs upon courting.” Kili insisted, his expression serious and Fili was struggling to figure out if he was being honest or playing him a fool. “Fine, dont believe me. It’s not like your stone gift or blade gift made him realize.”

“Ah- wait! Kili, come back. I just- I need to know more. Was it just worms or was it a specific bug or-?” Fili did not look forward to digging up worms to give to Glorfindel.

“I don’t know, but worms are abundant. Come on, I’ll help you collect them.”

Fili and Kili only returned a few hours later dirty and both looking smug, for vastly different reasons. Fili because he had just given his courting gift to Glorfindel, Kili because he made his idiot of a brother actually believe him about bugs.

Glorfindel, was just confused. With all these worms… did Fili wish to go fishing?

.~:*:~.

The bugs, Fili learned, turned out to be a lie. He had to explain to Glorfindel that Kili had insisted that elves liked bugs and that he should give some to the commander. Only to later learn from his mother that Kili had lied. Thankfully as soon as Glorfindel learned it was a prank on FIli by Kili, he understood and got a solid laugh out of it. The elf really had been utterly confused but it all made sense now.

Now, Glorfindel was searching for his friend in the hopes they might share a meal together and talk further. He had come to learn the dwarf knew very little of Glorfindel’s name other than there was a hero who had died that had the same name. The silly dwarf did not make the connection he <i>was</i> one and the same. Fin was Glorfindel, the bolrog slayer. An epiphat that he had never wished for but had taken it without remorse.

It had stung when Fili snorted at the story, how the Bolrog killed him by grabbing his hair and pulling him into the abyss. But at the same time he had understood, it was ironic - as the Dwarf had put it - that Glorfindel had fought in a war, had managed to defeat hundreds of enemies, even taken down a Bolrog, but the vanity all elves had which made them leave their hair fairly loose upon the battle field, was what had done him in.

Glorfindel had not thought of it before but it was true. Had he not let his hair be free it would not have been grabbed, he would have survived. Even now he never pulled it back truly, only was far mor conscious of it and the braids he used to keep the front out of his face. “Fili,” Glorfindel smiled at the dwarf and bowed in greeting.

“Fin.” His reply was terse but not uncaring. It seemed once again he was irritated by others looking to him without refused to what he was currently doing. Fili had once confided in Glorfindel that he didn’t even mind the stupid requests, it was when they were pressed upon him as he was doing something important that he minded.

“Would you like to come eat with me for the midday meal?” THe request barely left the elf’s lips, but FIli was already shoving all of his paperwork into Kili’s arms - the poor younger brother scowling - and making his way to Glorfindel’s side.

“Aye, Kili will be doing my duties for me while we go eat, part of his punishment for his cruel joke.”

“I said I was sorry,” Kili whined, but he knew his mother sided with Fili on this. Counting was not some trivial matter the be joked around with.

AFter the two had their meal, and Fili looking remorse knowing he had to go back, Glorfindel brought up what had been on his mind earlier. “Fili, I must go hunting soon, a pack of orcs were sighted nearby, by my scouts. We will be ridding the land of the pests and making sure none get close to the village.”

“Orca? Ye are sure they were sighted near?” When Glorfindel nodded Fili cursed. “I will gather a group of dwarves to hunt with ye-“

“No, Fili. This is how we elves shall repay you for the kindness you have allowed. Staying on your land may be mutually beneficial but few dwarves would offer this kindness up. I just request that you help me this even before I leave. It has come to my attention that my hair is a disadvantage in battle. WHile I am versed in putting it up for elven ceremonies, those styles are not fit for battle.”

Without thinking about it, Glorfindel reached out and touched a braid that surrounded Fili’s lips. “What are ye asking of me, Glorfindel? Do ye know?”

“I’m asking you to braid my hair, my friend. So that should an enemy grasp at it, I will not be felled again from some cliff.”

Fili looked infuriated as he tossed his mane of hair back, and tugged his braid free of the loose finger. “Fine.” His word was spat venomously and he stood, “I will be at your tent after the evening meal.”

Glorfindel did not know it, how could he when it was not part of his custom, but asking a dwarf to touch his hair was as intimate to the small men as sexual relations. His words stung and dishonored Fili. Calling him a <i>friend</i> as he touched a braid and asked for it in return, was saying he was no better than an easy fuck.

Fili was far too in love to say no though, so he took the insult and dishonor to his name. Showing up at the elf’s tent in a foul mood but still showing up because he did care. His fingers were rough but not unkind as he touched the long golden hair, he’d never seen hair this long as any dwarf with hair this length had long since put it up.Fili put in multiple braids, intertwining them at points to create a patter which would secure what was not put up before pulling all the hair together and tying it off with a leather strip.

What was left down was still one but would not flow far from his body and any grasp on it would be easy enough to remove. Glorfindel knew he could never recreate such an intricate style on his own, and was thankful for the dwarf’s help. But something about Fili looked <i>off</i> after and Glorfindel let the dwarf storm off without a word uttered.

There was no time to deal with this now and would have to wait until his return. PErhaps he had said something or asked something of Fili that was rude. But he had seen Fili braiding and pulling Kili’s hair back before, along with a female Dwarf’s. Thinking of this was just like riding in circles, getting him nowhere. Instead of worrying much further over it he heaved a sigh and left with his men.

“Lord Glorfindel…” One of his men rode closer and leaned over. “Did a dwarf do that for you?” He spoke lowly and GLorfindel narrowed his eyes, to speak so meant he knew something and hoped the others would not hear. So without a word Glorfindel nodded and noticed the grimace. “Was it a whore?”

Pulling on his reigns the horse reared before getting back under control and GLorfindel scowled. “You offer much dishonor to the one that did this for my by asking that.”

“Yes, but no more than you did by asking it of him.” THe elf had leaned away when the horse had reared and Glorfindel looked confused. “Dwarven culture states that hair is sacred in the sense of one another. Only family or one intimate may touch it. Even when they die none of their kind except their priests or family will bind their hair.”

Shocked by the revelation - now now understanding FIli’s fury - he reached back and touched the binding in his hair.

“Do not take it out.” The elf hissed quickly and urged his mount close once more. “You would dishonor him further. Think about it, if you had put flowers upon his head because he asked it of you, and then he removed it not long after…”

Glorfindel tore his hand away from the strap and nodded. Flowers were more sacred to his house than others so he understood deeply. Putting a crown of them upon FIli who thought of him differently, would be similar to what the dwarf had done for him. And if Fili returned later without the flowers he would be shamed like that of a petty bar whore.

“But I <i>do</i> think of him in such a way. I would be honored if he were to become my betrothed.”

The elf snorted and shook his head. “Would you sex a lady before offering to wed her?”

“I will fix this upon our return, thank you for bringing it to my attention.” Glorfindel urged his horse ahead and the elf fell behind, letting their leader think freely.

.~:*:~.

Glorfindel had not had the chance to meet with Fili since returning, but the looks dwarves gave him told him that the elf a fortnight ago was right. He had shamed FIli deeply. Finding the dwarf on the sparring field he made eye contact. Fili was about to start a bout and hesitated, only pausing long enough to remove his tunic much to the surprise of those around. Eyes fell upon Glorfindel once more and some sneered.

WAs this another dwarven culture problem? Did they remove tunics to spar? If so why had the other dwarf not? Why was it only FIli? Could this be because of his shame? As he watched FIli spar, noting every droplet of sweat that trailed down the dwarf’s frame, a woman came up to him.

Or he assumed it was as she- they, has chain jewelry going from their nose to multiple ear piercings. Their beard was kept short and the sideburns neat. Did that mean something? Considering how important hair was he thought so.

“Ye still wear his braids.” Her tone was not harsh, but curt. She was not pleased. “Ye should have removed them before returning. His shame would not be for all to see then.”

“You dishonor both him and I.” Glorfindel replied in a similar tone. He felt as if the repitition would never end. “I wear them still because I care. Do not mistake this as flagging him for something that was not intended. Elves are more lax about their hair than you dwarves and had I known, I would have started something with him first.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Started something? Ye mean to ask my boy to be betrothed? AN elf and a dwarf, what insanity has this family been cursed with. Watch him carefully as he battles and congratulate him loudly, for all to hear. Win or lose, if ye do not, there will be no saving his honor.” The woman turned on her heel and left after that.

Glorfindel listened to her advice and when Fili bested his opponent he saw his untold queue, Blue dwarven eyes had flicked to him from where the owner stood, dripping sweat, in the middle of the field. “That was amazing FIli,” Glorfindel’s voice rang out and everyone looked at him once more. He might as well go all the way with this. “I’ve rarely seen such power as you displayed. A true master you must be. Come, let us eat and talk about what has been missed in my absence.”

Fili looked grateful and grabbed his tunic from the ground before going to catch up with the elf. Glorfindel supposed a proper talk could wait for tomorrow and for now a chat about what had happened in both of their absences was more paramount.

.~:*:~.

Fili sought out an elf after his meeting with Glorfindel and finally decided he needed to go to the source to do it right. His eyes had sought out a familiar face and upon finding it, he made his way to the tall elf that he figured was Glorfindel’s second in command. “Lord Elf,” He greeted and the elf bowed to him, knowing that FIli was in charge here and deserved respect for now.

“Master Dwarf.” The greeting returned could ahve been seen as rude but Fili was not so naive as to let the lack of names be anything more than simple unfamiliarity.

“I have a question for ye about yer customs, would you spare a few moments of time?”

“It seems to ahve taken you long enough to seek me out for this, a few moments will be of no concern.” When the elf stood up from the bow there was a cocky smirk upon his lips.

“I see one of ye are versed in my idiocy.”

…

Glorfindel sat in the open field, legs stretched before him but crossed at the ankles, just backing in the scent of flowers before him. Something light touched his head and was placed upon his brow. Carefully reaching up his fingers touched flowers and he blushed knowing it was a crown of them.

Looking over to the Dwarf he saw FIli smiling down at him and it dawned on him with this gift, what everything had been. “You have been courting me.” It was not voiced as a question and as such Fili did not reply. “Now you ask for my hand in marriage?”

“Aye, for it seems that my previous betrothal gifts while accepted were not understood.” Taking the crown from his head he looked it over, smiling at the arrangement before putting it back where it belong.

“Other gifts? More than just the hair?”

Fili looked surprised and blushed. “The hair was not a courting gift, it was cruel of me to accept and I did so in anger and hurt. I touched yer hair and put it on display for all to see that we were intimate but to ahve ye go out and about with it meant we were shameful.

“Nay, I meant the stone with Love inscribed, the hand crafted betrothal blade, ...the bugs Kili had told me were an elven courting gesture,” Glorfindel snorted at that, it made even more sense now why Kili was taking a harsh punishment for his actions, “and proving myself afore ye in the spar last eve. Had you not accepted that, there would be no hope now.”

“FIli, you should have just said something.”

“Tis not how courting goes.” The dwarf grumbled but stopped as Fin reached up to put a hand on his cheek and smile at him.

“Here, let me show you how we elves accept a crown of flowers.” Their lips met in their first, and not nearly last, kiss.

#drabble #courting hc #headcanon #courting #i gotta polish this up later #glorfindel #fili #hair #legit shit

[mischievousmoony]

Time

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: As your days at Hogwarts are coming to an end, you decided it is finally time to tell Sirius Black about your feelings for him. However, you chose to do it on the busiest night of the year: the night of James’ birthday party. Things seem to keep getting in your way, but will it stop you from telling Sirius? 

Warnings: drinking

Requested by anon

Masterlist

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Unrequited love. When you read about it in literature you always found yourself captivated by the story. There was just something so alluring about it.

Too bad in real life it sucked. 

You’ve had feelings for Sirius Black for years and at this point, you should go into a career as a spy because of how good you’ve gotten at lying and hiding things. 

But, as mentioned, it had been years so it wasn’t hard for you to ignore it for a little while. Especially when you had other things on your mind. 

For example, helping plan what was supposed to be the biggest party of the year: James Potter’s birthday party. 

You had spent seven years at Hogwarts and within those seven years, traditions formed. For the Gryffindors, one of those traditions was James’ birthday party. 

Every year, on the last weekend of March, a party was held for James in the Gryffindor common room. It was one of the most looked forward to and talked about parties of the year. Its reputation even leads to a few gatecrashers from other houses. 

But this year it was supposed to be special. It would be the last of James’ parties and that meant it had to be the best. The Marauders had recruited you, Lily, and Marlene to help. The more minds the better, right? Well...

“Balloons? Balloons! Sorry, I misunderstood, I thought James was turning eighteen not eight,” Marlene said sarcastically, “I mean, he is turning eight, right Peter? I can’t imagine him being any older if you think we should have balloons.” With the way Marlene said it, you’d think “balloon” was the ugliest word in the English language. 

The more minds the more opinions. Very different opinions. 

“We have to cast some spell so nobody can crash the party. This is exclusive to just Gryffindors,” Sirius decided. 

“What? Gatecrashers are half the fun! Not only are they a sign of success but do you know how satisfying it is to kick them out?” Marlene smiled as if reminiscing about her favorite memories. 

“Maybe we should just invite the other houses.”

“Shut up, Peter.” 

It was like all you guys knew how to do was argue. 

“Too much firewhiskey? There’s never too much firewhiskey!” James shouted excitedly. 

“Do you know how much leftover alcohol we’ll have if we buy that much? It’s a waste!” Lily protested. 

“We want leftovers! The more we have left over the more I get to keep for myself!”

Marlene shook her head, “I swear, you’re going to be an alcoholic one day, Sirius.”

Even you and Remus, the two people who found these specific arguments trivial and a waste of time, were arguing nonstop. 

“I’m sorry, but that sounds like the biggest disaster of a cake ever known to man,” you said, a disgusted look on your face. 

“What do you mean?” Remus erupted, looking back at his rough sketch, “James is like the biggest Gryffindor ever a lion cake would be-”

“Coated with too much frosting and fondant that nobody likes?” You finished for him snidely. 

The entire group had never been so insulted by each other. You didn’t even know some of you could be that rude. Eventually, it was decided that after James decided on something it wouldn’t be argued or discussed again. It seemed to work pretty well, because from where you were standing the party had met all of your greatest expectations. 

––––––––––

There was only so much time.

There were so many things you wanted to do! There was someone you wanted to do - Merlin, no! That’s so not the point. The things alcohol does to your brain... anyway–there was someone you wanted to talk to (that’s better!). Actually, had to talk to. You’d been sitting on your feelings for far too long and now that you realized how little time you had left, you were going to do something about.

But not without a little bit more firewhiskey. So forty minutes and two glasses later you think you might, possibly, be somewhat able to speak to Sirius. 

You could see him across the room talking to Remus. You took a deep breath, giving yourself a pep talk as you slowly, very slowly, made your way over, “You got this. You got this. You got this. He’s one of your best friends, you can tell him anything. You can tell him.”

“Tell who what?” Lily unexpectedly obstructed your path, making you jump a little.

“Huh? Nothing, I- nothing,” you paused to take a breath, calming yourself down, “What’s up?”

“There’s an issue with the cake, we put Peter in charge of getting it from the elves and... well that explains the problem enough, doesn’t it?”

“You put Peter in charge of the cake? Why would you do that!” You scolded Lily for the poor decision. Peter wasn’t very good with big tasks, he got very anxious and tended to mess them up because of it. 

“I know! I know! Listen he was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago, will you please help me find him?” Lily asked, intertwining her hands together to beg for your help.

You shifted your glance away from Lily’s begging eyes to Sirius just feet behind her. You figured you had the whole night to talk to him, you could do this one thing, right?

“Alright, lets go. And make it quick, okay?”

“Thank you! C’mon let’s start at the kitchen.”

––––––––––

“What did you do to make the head elf so angry?” Lily asked, dumbfounded, as you helped her carry the cake back to the common room.

Peter followed behind closely. His eyes were wide with fear, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

You almost laughed, but held back. You had never seen a house elf angry before. They were always so eager to please. It made you really want to know what Peter could have possibly done, but you knew that you should leave it alone for now.

“Leaping toadstool,” Lily said as they approached the Fat Lady before she could even request the password. 

As they entered, Lily shouted, “Who wants cake?” and they were swarmed by hungry party people. 

They placed the cake on the table and James strutted over with a lit candle in his hand, “Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, I say it’s cake time, blah blah blah, let’s eat!” He blew the fire out and tossed the wax rod to a random person nearby. 

As people got their slices, you found Sirius. The night would end at some point and you were determined to tell him before then. But when you found him, it seemed he was just determined to eat cake.

“Hey Sirius-”

“Cake!” He shouted, jogging past you. 

“After cake, then,” You said to yourself, plopping down on the nearest chair. 

You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice Sirius’ return with two plates, “I’d say we really did it this time, hm?”

Your eyes snapped up to look at him. He was watching the party, marveling at the success it was. 

“Yeah, it’s almost perfect,” you said softly.

“Almost? This is perfect! Why’re you saying almost?” Sirius spoke as if you had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. 

You took a deep breath. This was it, “Sirius, there’s something I have to-”

“Y/N!” A drunken James shouted, approaching you two at the table, “Dance with me! You’re the only person I must dance with tonight that haven’t danced with yet! So we have to dance right now!”

You glanced at Sirius, who nodded for you to go, “See you later.”

“One song, and then I think we should get you some water,” you giggled as James took your hand and lead you to the dance floor. 

However, you ended up on the dance floor for much longer than a song. Pretty soon the clock dipped into the AM without your awareness until someone nearby made an exclamation on how fast the party was going by.

“Is it really that late?” You gasped, “I have to talk to Sirius, James. I’ll catch up with you later. Happy birthday!”

You weaved through the crowd, looking for the dark haired boy in every corner.

“Remus, have you seen Sirius?” You shouted over the music. To save his breath, Remus pointed in his direction.

You turned around to see Sirius leaning against the fireplace cooly, flirting with some sixth year. Your heart sunk. It was clear he wasn’t interested in you if he was flirting with someone else, so what’s the point of telling him?

All of a sudden the party was too much for you to handle. It was too loud and too fast and an overload on all you senses. You needed to get away, so you found your way to the nearest balcony for some fresh air.

“Idiot,” you muttered to yourself, “I can’t believe I was gonna tell Sirius.”

“Tell me what?”

You jumped so high that you’re surprised you didn’t fall off the balcony. 

Sirius placed a hand on your back in attempt to calm you, but it just made your heart pound harder, “I saw you come out here, you looked upset. Everything alright?”

You forced a smile to overtake you features, “Peachy,” you tried to say it as genuinely as possible, but it seems you didn’t have the energy for it, “Sorry to pull you away from your friend. You can go back if you want.”

Sirius had a confused expression, “Who? Ava? Merlin, I don’t think she wants to talk to me.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just rejected her.” He shrugged, looking out at the grounds.

“Really?” You're eyebrows rose in surprise, “You seemed to like her.”

Sirius looked at you, “I’ve got my eye on someone else.”

You turned away from him, struggling to keep your face expressionless, “You should talk to her then.” If you couldn’t be happy with Sirius, you figured you’d at least help him be happy even if it was with someone else.

“Yeah?” he questioned

“Yeah. It’s almost April. And then it’ll be May, and then June.”

“That is how the months go, yes,” Sirius joked, flashing you a cheeky smile.

You shoved him a little for that, “I mean to say the year is almost over! Pretty soon we’ll be done with Hogwarts and on to whatever the hell is next. We’re running out of time, Sirius, so don’t hold back. If you like this girl, do something about it.”

“Do something about it, hm?” Sirius questioned, watching you as you stared at the ripple in the water of the Great Lake. 

“Yes, don’t hold back just-” 

You were interrupted by Sirius suddenly pressing his lips against yours. After the initially shock, you responded to the kiss and let your hands find his hair. His arms snaked around your waist, holding you tight as he disregarded the concept of air to keep his lips on yours. Eventually, though, the need for oxygen won and you broke apart. 

“That was... unexpected,” you panted.

“You told me not to hold back.” Sirius smirked, removing one of his arms from your waist to cup your cheek, “Was that okay?”

“That was perfect,” you smiled, leaning into his hand.

All of a sudden Sirius remembered what he heard when he found you out hear, “Didn’t you have something to tell me?”

You smiled, “Just that there’s this guy I like.”

“Oh...” Sirius’ eyes widened before he put two and two together, realizing who that guy was, “Oh!”

You giggled at Sirius’ surge of giddiness as a boyish grin stretched across his face and he leaned closer to touch his nose to yours. 

But before he kissed you again, he wanted to say one more thing, “You know, about that running out of time thing? Well we may only have April and May and June here,” he looked out over the Hogwarts grounds before focusing back on you, “but even after that, I’m still gonna be right here.”

Your heart swelled and you felt as if you could cry, in a good way of course. You didn’t know what to say, so you leaned in and captured Sirius’ lips in another kiss.

It no longer mattered to you how much time you had left at Hogwarts because all that mattered is you had all the time in the world with this boy. Your boy. 

––––––––––

Note: It’s sad cause we all know what really happens after Hogwarts for Sirius...

#Sirius orion black #sirius black imagines #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #James Potter #james potter imagine #james potter imagines #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james fleamont potter #James Potter x Lily Evans #Remus Lupin #Remus John Lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #peter pettigrew #marlene mckinnon #Marauders #marauders era #marauders fandom #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic

[xxbyimm]

A tale as old as time - Bard the bowman x OC

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Hello dear people of Tumblr!!! I needed a break from all the work I yet have to write, because every time I look at my existing projects, my mind goes into full panic mode. So I asked myself what I wanted to do instead and just went with it. The world just doesn’t have enough Bard the bowman content, BUT I AM HERE FOR IT! 

I do hope y’all enjoy! xoxo

A tale as old as Time - Bard x OC - Chapter 1: Esgaroth upon the Long Lake.

Summary:  How could he never have noticed her before? Because after just one single glance at this lady and her breathtaking eyes, these bowman’s nights grow long and restless. He considers himself to be too old for infatuations like this, but yet there he is, watching her from a safe distance and craving her touch. Bard is determined to sit this one out, to wait until these unwanted feelings fade away… But we all know what happens when you’re trying to avoid someone in a small town…

Warnings: Not really. Alfrid being creepy as fuck, but that isn’t surprising??

Taglist: @soradragon​ @pistachiozombie​ @legolaslovely​ @tomisbaeholland​ @saviorsong​ @swoopswishsward​ @fizzyxcustard​ @deepestfirefun​ @ruthoakenshield​ @mariannetora​   Furthermore: @marvel-ous-hobbit​ @tigereyesf​ @aryaarathornson​  showed interest so I’m giving you lovelies a tag! If you don’t wish to be tagged anymore, please let me know! Or if you’re not on the list and want to be tagged: check out my lists and I’d like to hear which list you want in on!

When her father had suggested that the family could use a new start, surely he did not mean… this?

Brea’s grey eyes glanced over the market water and she watched the people bustling about, chattering with one another while examining goods. Her platinum blonde hair hung in a loose braid over her shoulders. The embroidered green dress she had chosen this morning was still a bit too thin during this time of the year, but Brea had been determined to wear it. Her mother did not approve of her daughter’s choice, nor did Mîrhel, wife of Brenion, like the fact that her daughter hadn’t planned on wearing her winter coat as well. The loud, shrieky protests still rung in Brea’s ears.

The eldest daughter of Brenion and Mîrhel shivered and drew the woolly, knitted shawl closer to her body. This place was so cold. Perhaps she should have listened to her mother anyway and brought her coat, but here she was… making her own mistakes. If anything, returning home and telling Mîrhel she was right, wasn’t an option. So for a moment, Brea faced the cold in stride and listened to the local fishermen banter about the weather conditions, their wives and other unimportant matters.

She did not mean to come across as a spoiled brat, but from the moment her father had started preaching about the grand Esgaroth upon the Long Lake, she had imagined a collision of elven and human culture, a rich town which still bore the remnants of the dwarves who had occupied the area long ago. A majestic city, built upon the ruins of Dale.

Lake-town and its’ inhabitants however, was nothing like that. It was a poor place, the houses built upon structures of wooden poles and decks. The people solely relied on their trades with the elves of Mirkwood and the dwarves in the Iron hills, that is if you didn’t count the fish the lake had to offer. Everyone seemed to settle for a simple life and not a noble, meaningful one that (at least in Brea’s opinion) would be so much more satisfying. So as she regarded the fishermen and their merry banter, Brea wondered briefly if these people were even able to think beyond the daily struggle of survival, as the living conditions here were a lot more harsh than she was used to. She pursed her lips together. Compared to her former home of Minas Tirith, she couldn’t help but find Lake-town a bit… disappointing.

It was safe to say that the constant odour of dead fish and the earthly undertones of rotting wood weren’t helping Brea’s view of Lake-town. To make matters even worse, Esgaroth was a terribly cold place. Before, father always had claimed that there was nothing a warm hearth couldn’t cure, but it seemed they never had experienced this particular clammy cold that chilled you to the bones, for not even the winters in Minas Tirith were this wet. It didn’t matter how high you stoked the fire or how well dressed you were. Everyone suffered the same cold.

So if their lives had turned so miserable during these past few weeks, why stay? Why would a family leave the relatively safe borders of Gondor and venture this far north? Why would they risk being robbed, or worse: being killed on the dangerous road towards their destiny? Mother had asked herself this question a hundred times and the answer had always been the same. There hadn’t been a choice, nor could they ever go back home. And for that, Brea was to blame.

A gust of wind travelled over the market water and Brea shivered once more. Though spring had finally set in, even on afternoons like this the weather conditions were treacherous. One could still easily catch a cold. Besides, her mother had insisted her eldest daughter should be back for teatime. She was lucky that Mîrhel had asked her to collect shoes from the cobbler anyway. Since her latest mishaps, Brea wasn’t allowed to go out without a chaperone. It didn’t matter how many times she told her parents that this was a different town, she would do things differently now… They still merely shook their heads and shooed her away.

Brea continued her way around the market water again. The cobbler’s shop lied west of the market, near the town’s gatehouse. Her mother’s instructions had been clear: Brea should inspect the shoes before handing the townsman the money that was owed. If the repair wasn’t living up to the expectations, the poor soul should be payed less. Whatever these expectations might be… She heaved a sigh and trotted over the quays towards her destination. Just before the market, she took a left turn into a small street. She only had been in this part of town once, but if she remembered it correctly the cobbler occupied a shop just further along the way. She narrowed her eyes and tried to spot the little sign to make sure she was going the right direction.

‘My lady Brea, daughter of Brenion.’ A nasty voice called just behind her. Brea whirled around and eyed the hateful man to whom this speech belonged to. The chap was of moderate height, had pitch black hair that was rather greasy and eyes that were dark and looming. Though the stubble on his cheeks did indicate that he did maintain his beard (or he wasn’t able to grow one, she wasn’t sure), he somehow had decided that sporting a unibrow was the way to attract the ladies. Surely this guy was unmarried, because if he would have had a wife, she surely would not let him creep around town looking like this. And definitely not in those dark, slimy clothing that should have been laundered weeks ago.

‘Alfrid.’ She replied while suppressing a shiver. ‘How lovely to see you again.’ ‘Oh, the pleasure is all mine.’ He ensured her with a crooked smile, showing off the yellowest teeth in Middle Earth. ‘Your presence is always a delight.’ She inclined her head, silently sending prayers to the Gods to let this man leave her alone. ‘Thank you.’ ‘So you’re out and about?’ Alfrid went on, his dark eyes piercing through hers. ‘On your own, I might add?’ ‘Our maid was busy and my mother needed someone to collect her shoes.’ Brea said. ‘I’m happy to help.’ ‘I’m sure you are. But I happen to know that your father has told the master you can’t go anywhere without a chaperone.’ The master’s deputy declared. Brea shrugged, not feeling the slightest inclination to let this nasty man stick his awful nose in her business. ‘I guess when we first moved here, my parents redeem Lake-town as less safe for young maidens like myself than our hometown of Minas Tirith. You see, you never know on which corner there might be an assailant lurking.’ Alfrid thought on it for a second, but did not seem to include himself in the category described to him. ‘There are no scoundrels in this town, I daresay, miss. Except from the occasional bargeman.’ ‘That’s a relief.’ Brea answered before turning away. ‘I think my parents must feel the same, which explains why I’m allowed to run some errands. With that being said, I must be on my way now, good sir.’ His hand grabbed her sleeve firmly, causing Brea to hiss in pain. ‘Not so hasty, miss.’ He told her. ‘The decks can be quite slippery in this part of town. I will gladly escort you.’

More slippery than the motives of this guy? Unlikely.

‘Oh, that is very kind of you, but you must have more important, pressing tasks that need tending to.’ Brea replied quickly, while gently pulling her arm away from his hold. ‘I’m sure I’ll manage.’

She did not wait for a reply and started walking in the way of the cobbler’s shop again. The heavier footsteps behind hers told her that Alfrid was quite the persevering type. She suppressed a sigh and quickened her pace. ‘I saw your little sister today.’ Alfrid remarked. ‘Oh?’ Brea murmured, finally setting her eyes on the sign, her destination. ‘She was wandering the market with the eldest spawn of Bard.’ The master’s deputy told you. ‘I must warn you about that bargeman and his kin.’ Though Brea wasn’t interested in the slightest, she did feel inclined to ask anyway. For Jen’s sake it was better if she knew something was wrong before their parents did. ‘What about them?’ ‘They are vile people, troublemakers. No respect for the authorities, so to speak. Your parents should not allow your sister to associate with that family.’

Brea paused and turned around to face the ugly man. Her grey eyes bore into his dark ones. She knew her sister had an excellent sense of character: Jen would never associate herself with the wrong people. Unlike her big sister, who only seemed to attract the worst of humanity itself. The prove of that point was standing right before her. ‘I will talk to her.’ She finally replied rather haughtily. ‘But I am fairly sure-’ Alfrid wasn’t looking at her anymore. Brea followed his gaze over the canal.

There was a man standing on the deck on the other side. Though it seemed he was just minding his own business, arms folded and casually leaning against a wall of one of the homes, his glare was directed at the spot they stood. The man had a tall, strong build and dark hair that reached his shoulders. From such a distance she couldn’t tell the colour of his eyes, but they seemed mysteriously dark. A familiar yearning feeling settled in the pit of her stomach and Brea licked her lips.

‘Will you leave this poor woman alone, Alfrid?’ The man finally spoke in a gruff tone. ‘She clearly doesn’t want your affections.’ ‘This is the troublemaker I was telling you about, miss Brea!’ The master’s deputy spat. ‘He gives us nothing but revolts and misery!’ Brea could not hide her grin and she immediately liked this bargeman. Not only was he very easy on the eye, Alfrid seemed to hate him. Perhaps if she became acquainted with this man, that rat would leave her alone. ‘It’s nice to meet you, master Bard.’ She said, while making a curtsey. ‘I am Brea, daughter of Brenion the merchant. We’re new in town.’ ‘The pleasure is mine.’ He replied, a rueful smile adorning his face. ‘I think I have seen you at the market with your mother a few times before, but we never spoke.’ ‘And let’s keep it that way, shall we!’ Alfrid broke in and he glared nastily at Bard before grabbing Brea’s arm and dragging her along with him. Brea shot a helpless glance behind her only to discover that the bargeman was gone. She winced when the master’s deputy squeezed her wrist too hard, but the latter one didn’t seem to notice. He paced over the decks, trotting the eldest daughter of Brenion along all while mumbling to himself. ‘This beautiful young lady doesn’t need her reputation shattered by that smug, lowly piece of filth. I will tell the master what he-’ Brea groaned, this time slowly peeling his cold, clammy fingers from her wrist. Alfrid didn’t seem to notice and went on grumbling about the wrongdoings of this poor Bard fellow. She couldn’t imagine what he had done to set a character like Alfrid off, but it surely would be something ridiculous.

By the time she had freed herself from the master’s deputy’s slimy touch, they were standing before the cobbler’s shop. ‘Here we are, miss Brea.’ Alfrid made a little bow and showed her his huge, yellow teeth again. ‘I will wait outside to escort you home.’ ‘Oh, that’s not necessary.’ Brea said sweetly. ‘I will probably need to stop by the tailor anyway. You see, these shoes only go with special undergarments. My mother is quite specific about these-’ Alfrid held up his hands defensively and smirked. ‘Enough said, my lady. I don’t need to know about underclothing, especially not your mother’s. I’ll leave you here to run your- errm- lady errands.’

Exactly. She had been counting on that. You see, people like Alfrid did get nervous whenever women addressed women’s topics. Brea smiled innocently before making a little curtsey. ‘You are too kind, mister Alfrid.’ She crooned. ‘Now forgive me, for I most hurry. My mother will be worried if I don’t make it back before teatime.’ Alfrid bowed before her. ‘This is where we part ways, miss Brea. I’ll see you tomorrow, at the master’s house.’

Good Gods, she had totally forgotten about that. The master had invited father and his family over for dinner. Up until now, Brea hadn’t even thought of the possibility of Alfrid being there. Of course he would. And after being unnecessary kind to the guy, she probably had to deal with the consequences of that tomorrow. With a deep frown on her face, she watched the master’s deputy creep away over the decks. Jenessa was bound to have the best time once she discovered what her big sister had set in motion, unwillingly attracting the worst suitors of mankind.

There had been one exception to the rule. She glanced at the direction where Bard had been standing. Well… make that two.

‘Goodness girl, what took you so long!’ Her mother cried from the reading room as soon as their servant opened the front door to let Brea in. ‘I almost did send poor Catherine out to tell your dad you were missing!’

‘Don’t fret, mother.’ Brea protested loudly while handing the shoes and her shawl over to the servant. ‘The master’s deputy slowed me down, that’s all.’

There was a short silence. ‘Ah, you mean that chap… what’s his name…’ Mîrhel murmured, barely audible. ‘Alfrid.’ Brea replied as she made her way through the hall and entered the reading room. Her mom was sitting on their chaise longue, the couch in opposite of her surprisingly empty. In the table between stood a porcelain tea set on a silver platter. ‘Come here, my dear.’ She said and she patted on the spot directly next to her. ‘You tell me all about your encounter with that man, while we wait for Jenessa. Haven’t you seen her? And have you been kind to him?’ ‘Who?’ Mîrhel huffed and started to pour her daughter a cup of tea. ‘That deputy of course!’ ‘Yes, though he was a bit persistent and wouldn’t leave me alone.’ Brea said. Her mother rewarded her with a bright smile. ‘Good girl. We have to keep those people on our side, so make sure you always behave impeccably towards them.’

Brea couldn’t promise she’d do that if the guy became too friendly, but she gave her mother an assuring nod anyway. ‘I will, mother. Where’s Jen again?’ ‘Your sister’s name is still Jenessa.’ Mother scolded her eldest daughter, though with a smile. ‘She went looking for you, to make sure you’d be back for tea. Maybe she got lost, or she bumped into that Alfredo, just like you did… Goodness, nothing would have happened to her, would it?’ Brea licked her lips and for a moment she pondered the possibilities where Jen might be. Then she remembered something Alfrid had mentioned. Her heart skipped a beat.

‘Mother, I know where she might be.’ Brea said breathlessly. ‘Where?’ Mîrhel demanded. ‘Tell me at once, then we can send Catherine out and fetch her before the tea is cold. CATHERINE!’ They heard some shuffling and a loud clang in the kitchen, before poor Catherine hastened through the hall towards the Missus. She shyly prodded her head around the corner into the reading room. ‘You called, Missus?’ ‘Yes. Can you fetch Jenessa for me? She’s at-’ Mother paused and glanced at her eldest daughter. ‘Brea?’ ‘Bard the bargeman, though I’m not sure.’ ‘Who is that?’ Mîrhel demanded. ‘Do we know him?’ Brea shrugged and Catherine merely bowed before retreating. ‘I will get her at once, Missus.’ Brea took a sip of her tea and grimaced as she burned her tongue. It would take at least twenty minutes before she could drink the beverage properly. ‘Mother…’ she tried. ‘Since the tea is still boiling hot and Catherine should be preparing our meals, shall I collect Jen for you?’ ‘Are you exploiting your newly found freedom, darling?’ ‘Maybe.’ Brea said truthfully. ‘Or maybe I’m just trying to help. You know father hates it when he has to wait for dinner.’ ‘That seems like a fair remark.’ Mother pondered. ‘And to reward your thoughtfulness, I will allow you to go. But before you do, you have to make me a few promises.’ ‘Yes, mother.’ Brea beamed. ‘Anything.’ ‘You go straight to wherever your little sister is, fetch her and then come directly home.’ ‘Yes, mother.’ ‘No funny business. No snooping around other places.’ ‘Yes, mother.’ ‘And no flirting with young men.’ Mîrhel demanded. ‘Not even Alfredo.’ ‘You mean Alfrid?!’ Brea cried. ‘Mother! Why would I even-’ Her mother shook her head. ‘I have to make sure, Brea. You have proven yourself to be far more cunning than your father and I could ever have imagined. I don’t want you to drag our reputation down the drain once again, not even in this wretched town.’ ‘MOTHER!’ ‘Don’t use such a tone against me, young lady.’ Mîrhel rebuked. ‘Now go, before our servant-’ A strangled groan erupted from her throat when the front door fell shut. ‘There she goes, poor lass. Hurry, Brea…’

Thus Brea set out once again on the same route, but this time she passed the market place instead of venturing left. After inquiring at a tapestry stand, Brea learned that Bard lived in the northern part of the city. The merchant told her that if she turned left before the town’s hall canal and kept walking straight ahead to the outskirt of the city, she’d find the bargeman’s home.

So with those instructions in mind, Brea walked around the market water until the town’s hall and the canal that laid before it came into view. Brea halted and glanced over her surroundings before taking a left turn. The waterway that ran along the right side of this particular quay was much smaller and the various boats that were docked here made it even more narrow. In order to inspect the homes that stood directly on her left, Brea slowed her pace. The people living on the right had built small, wooden bridges allowing them pass the canal to their home safely. Brea enjoyed the various wooden carvings adorning both the homes and bridges. She was told that at some point, the water would broaden into open water and the bargeman’s home lied directly behind this small square. Furthermore, she would have to enter a few steps leading up to a blue front door, that would appear on her left and it was described to have a diamond shaped window in it.

It didn’t take her long to find the house. Brea took the flight of stairs and the door was there, but when her fist reached for the hard wood, she noticed her hand was trembling.

In fact, her whole body was. Her heart hammered in her chest and Brea was sure that the people inside this home could hear it slamming. Her breathing was shallow, like she ran all the way here like a- Oh, stop it! She gritted her teeth, mentally scolding herself for being such a lightheaded, foolish girl. What made her believe that this handsome bargeman she just got acquainted with, lived here? For all she knew, there could live two Bard’s in this town. Furthermore, if Bard turned out to be the one she though he was, he was said to have children so there probably was a wife in his life. In any case, he wouldn’t be interested in a girl like her.

And with that, she knocked firmly on the wooden door.

The first thing she noticed, were his eyes.

Bard the bargeman easily possessed the most gorgeous hazelnut coloured eyes she’d ever seen. Brea’s breath hitched as she took in the man who was standing in the door opening. He had dark, messy hair that was kept out of his face with a string of cloth at the back of his head. His fine cheekbones were distracting and though Brea usually wasn’t that fond of moustaches and soul patches, somehow this man’s carefully trimmed facial hair made him only more desirable. The greying hair at his temples betrayed the fact he must be well in his thirties.

He was wearing sturdy brown boots adorned with fur, black breeches, a light brown woollen tunic and a long, leather coat in a slightly darker shade. The woollen tunic had a low v-neckline, showing some chest hair and the grey undergarment he was wearing underneath. Her thighs clenched and Brea bit her lip. Goodness, she hoped she wasn’t showing her desires too much… How was this possible anyway? Before, there had only been one man who had made her feel like this, but she was still mourning him. How could another stir the same in her to the point she was just staring at him like he was a piece of fine meat?

Though there was no denying that in fact, he was. How rude of her…

‘Oh.’ Bard murmured as he took her in just as she had done. For a second he looked more alarmed and flustered than anything, but that expression faded quickly and was replaced with a smug smile. ‘Miss Brea.’ He greeted her. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure of encountering you on my doorstep?’ ‘Just Brea is fine, master Bard.’ She replied, a little out of breath. ‘I apologize for disturbing you, but I’m looking for my sister. A little worm told me she was forming rather unsavoury relations. When I asked him what he meant, he pointed me in the direction of your home.’ Bard grinned. ‘Unsavoury relations? Why would he think that?’ ‘The real question is what you have done to make him hate you.’ Brea mused. ‘I might need your advice on that matter.’ He stepped aside and motioned for Brea to come in. ‘Ah, yes. He was quite determined this afternoon, wasn’t he?’ ‘That’s an understatement.’ She said. ‘Is he always like that?’ ‘Yes, though women in this town know him too well to let him come close like you did.’ Brea placed her hands on her hips and eyed him defiantly. ‘I’m capable of handling myself, thank you very much.’ The bargeman chuckled. ‘I didn’t say you couldn’t. But you were too polite to him today.’ Brea smiled sweetly and stepped over the threshold. Bard’s home wasn’t as big as theirs, but it was a cosy one. A grand table and two benches dominated the middle of the room. Directly on Brea’s left was a wooden staircase that led a level down. In the far left corner of the room stood a bed that could fit at least three people. At Brea’s right, stood a small kitchen where two girls were busying themselves.

‘Any tips for when I have to keep him at armlength tomorrow during dinner at the master’s home?’ she asked Bard, giving him a teasing glance. He winced. ‘Are you sure you want to enter the dragon’s lair?’ ‘I’ve heard there lives a dragon in that mountain, is that-’

‘Oh! That stupid dinner! I forgot about that!’ her sister’s voice squeaked. Brea turned on her heels and discovered her sister, Jenessa. The raven haired girl with the most beautiful mahogany toned skin erupted from the kitchen, wearing mittens. Her dark eyes were sparkling with joy. She obviously had been preparing something with the other girls before Brea came in. The two girls had to be sisters, as both of them had dark blonde hair, blue eyes and the same facial expressions.

‘Hey Bree!’ Jenessa beamed. Brea heaved a sigh. ‘Jen, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? And it’s not a stupid dinner, it’s a necessary evil.’ ‘You don’t make it sound any better, Bree.’ Her sister grinned. Brea groaned and turned to Bard. ‘I’m so sorry. Jenessa can sometimes be oblivious to social conventions and overstay her welcome-’ Bard shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile that did send a pleasant jolt through her abdomen. ‘It’s fine, really. In fact, we’re happy she’s here. My eldest daughter, Sigrid, was planning on making apple pie and she happened to come across your sister at the market.’ ‘She was lost.’ Sigrid filled in with a grin. Jenessa cried indignantly. ‘Was not!’ ‘You were!’ The youngest sister chortled. ‘You were looking rather sad.’ Brea’s little sister heaved a sigh. ‘Fine. I was lost. Happy?’ ‘We won’t tease you too much with it, promised.’ Sigrid giggled. ‘But only after we have found out if your addition to ma’s recipe is a success.’ ‘It surely smells delicious!’ The little sister proclaimed. ‘That’s Tilda.’ Bard informed Brea with a fond smile. ‘She’s my youngest.’ Sigrid gave Tilda a few plates from the rack that stood on the counter. ‘Right Tilly, can you set the table for six?’ The girl nodded and set out to work. ‘I’ll boil some water for the tea.’ Jenessa said happily. Brea watched as the girls bustled around her and Jen, accepting these strangers in their midst easily and entertaining them with their cheerful banter. She turned to Bard, who was eyeing the scene as well, an amused expression adorning his face.

‘I am so sorry my little sister bashed into your home.’ Brea whispered. ‘The trick is not to encourage her, because she will to take over your whole household.’ ‘At least she can’t be worse than Alfrid, can she?’ Bard said casually and Brea suppressed a snort.

‘What is she saying?’ Jen demanded noisily as she put the pie on the table. ‘Is she trying to be the responsible, older sister again?’ ‘That’s my job.’ Brea told her. ‘Especially when you are misbehaving.’ ‘Am I? Shall I inform master Bard about your indiscretions in Minas Tirith, Bree?’ Jen inquired with a wide grin. ‘Please don’t.’ Brea warned. ‘Or I’ll have to beg mother to trade you for another, more grateful adoptive sister.’ ‘She’s adopted?’ Bard asked with a frown. ‘Her parents were friends with mine.’ Brea explained. ‘When they died thirteen years ago, my parents took Jen in.’ ‘And she regrets that decision every day!’ Jen complained as she was guarding the kettle until it would start to boil. Behind her, Sigrid grabbed six mugs from the cupboard and a tin containing dried tea leaves. Brea crossed her arms and watched her sister with narrowed eyes. ‘Jen, please tell this poor family you are joking!’

‘Da!’ Someone ran up the stairs and a few moments later, a teenage boy with dark hair and the same dark eyes as his father came into view. ‘I finished fixing the nets.’ He stopped in his tracks and eyed the newcomer curiously. ‘Who’s this?’ ‘Brea, this is my son Bain.’ Bard said. ‘Bain, this is miss Brea, miss Jenessa’s sister.’ ‘Oh, hello.’ The boy replied, suddenly a bit nervously. He quickly turned on his heels and stumbled down the stairs again. ‘Nice to meet you!’ Brea called after him. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s up with him these days.’ Bard murmured. ‘He’ll come around.’ ‘Don’t worry about it.’

Once everything was all set, the Bardlings took their place around the table and even Jenessa settled rather quickly as if she already belonged there. Brea stood there, a bit unsure what to do, until Bard turned and sent her a smile. ‘Will you join us, miss Brea?’ he inquired gently, gesturing at the place on the other end of the table.

Brea knew that she should have said no. She should have told them that mother was waiting for her and Jen to return, but… Brea’s brain seemed to have forgotten that information. She couldn’t remember a damn thing, only the fact that those gorgeous dark eyes were pleading her to stay, offering her a place at his table. And the best thing about that, was that there was no wife in sight. So her lips had formed the words before she could even stop herself from saying it. ‘Yes, please.’

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