#yes i know elves have different marriage traditions

[saibug1022]

MC: Okay, I-I, uh, I need to ask you something

Tyril: Yes, I'll marry you.

MC: How did you know I was gonna propose?!?!?!

Tyril: You dropped the ring three times during dinner.

Tyril: I even picked it up once.

#yes i know elves have different marriage traditions #but i saw this and it reminded me so much of tyril and mc that i had to #bolas #playchoices #blades of light and shadow #choices #tyril starfury #tyril x mc #bolas mc

[shivunin]

🎇20 Questions for Fic Writers🎇

Thanks for the tag @greypetrel my dear!

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 35

2. what’s your total ao3 word count? 641,898

3. what fandoms do you write for? So far? Dragon Age (all three games), but I have unfinished Mass Effect and BG3 things as well c:

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

-Your Fate for Mine (A "what if the Inquisitor was left behind in the Fade?" AU | Cullavellan | 129,681 words)

-Unyielding/Inexorable (Cullen throws hands with a member of the nobility at the Winter Palace; the follow-up is about a duel to settle things | Cullavellan | 3,083 and 8,055 words respectively)

-More than Memory (Smut about cultural differences and expressing one's needs | Cullavellan | 5,214 words)

-Search Your Hands (An exploration of the Dalish courting gift tradition with some mild smutty elements | Cullavellan | 13,581 words) (it doesn't have the most kudos, but this is by a significant margin my most-liked fic with respect to the views: kudos: bookmarks ratio)

-Wander the Drifting Roads (A "Cullen is infected with red lyrium" AU, but the focus is on how memory forms who we are and why the loss of it changes everything | Cullavellan | 108,331 words)

5. do you respond to comments? Yes, excepting the rare occasions that they are just emojis because (though I appreciate them!!) I never know what to say dsfahkjsfhk. The more I cherish a comment, the longer it takes me to answer (because I am hugging them to my chest and sobbing)

6. what’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hmmm Palimpsest, I think, because it ends with Fenris just after the Act 2 breakup and things are somewhat bleak. I am definitely more a happy endings kind of gal. Or a "if it's not fixed, it's not the end" sort, maybe.

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Pour Forth (the Fenris not crying fic) I think? To the Bone (Cullavellan soulmate AU) is right up there, I think.

8. do you get hate on fics? I've had a couple of snarky comments about my writing style, but people have generally been very sweet.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind? Lol. Yes. I find it harder to write smut for some pairings than others, but I really enjoy writing smut. I think smut can be a very incisive window into a pairing's dynamic and feelings about intimacy. What's more, I think I'm decent at writing it haha

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written? Not really! I don't see myself doing so, either. Just not my cup of tea.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of.

12. have you ever had a fic translated? I have not

13. have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but I have rp'd one of my Dragon Age OC's in a narrative context (which is sort of similar, I think)

14. what’s your all-time favorite ship? October/Tybalt. I will never write fic for the October Daye series, but I would die for them. Their whole battle couple (opposites attract, damaged people finding vulnerability and love, aggrieved rogue chases Hero around) dynamic has got me twirling my hair, kicking my feet, etc.

But of course, all of the DA ships I write for are a very close second place. Just all jammed uncomfortably in the doorway at once, Fenris's gauntlets poking poor Emma in the arm and Cullen's breastplate caught between Wen and the doorway, etc.

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? The Red Crossing Arrangement, my "what if the elves never lost Halamshiral" arranged marriage AU. The concept is so unimaginably cool, but there is a level of worldbuilding required to make it work that eventually sucked all the fun out of the project for me. Ideally...someday, I'll pick it back up again because I love the concept.

16. what are your writing strengths? This is always such a hard question to answer. It's going to sound vague, but I think one of my greatest skills is voice. I am pretty good at matching character and narrative voice to canon. I also think conveying emotions in a visceral way? I hope so, anyway c:

17. what are your writing weaknesses? Scenery. By like a very very big margin. Every first draft has almost no description of scenery in it, so I have a huge amount of respect for writers who are skilled at that. It's definitely my biggest challenge (I fall into the same trap when I'm DM'ing too T.T)

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Ehhhh mixed. I wouldn't want to screw up someone else's actual language, so I'd only want to do it if I knew someone who could proof it for me or if I knew the language myself. I only know Latin (rusty) and Spanish (intermediate) besides English, so I'll likely stick to what I know. I have written very brief dialogue in both Spanish and Latin for fics, though. More as a way of evoking the culture of the person speaking than for any other reason.

19. first fandom you wrote for? hahaha. well. Code Lyoko when I was 13. And then not at all again until I was 28.

20. favorite fic you’ve ever written? :C I have to choose one?? Aside from any of the ones mentioned above, Breath of Life (Zev almost dies in the fight against Taliesen, because it's one of my favorite tropes) or A Golden Bell Hung in my Heart (because it's DA flavored with The Last Unicorn and I wrote it for a dear friend; what's not to love?) or As Two Reflected Stars (because it's quintessential hurt/comfort wound-tending and I adore that most of all)

Tagging back (no pressure, feel free not to do this): @star--nymph @zenstrike @jtownnn @idolsgf @dreadfutures @scribbledquillz @ndostairlyrium @vakarians-babe @nightwardenminthara @heniareth @transprincecaspian and anyone else I usually tag but am forgetting somehow---you're supposed to be here, I swear, but tonight my brain is tapioca pudding.

#tag game #long post

[hellofeanor]

Fëanorian Quenya

Hey friends! Do you like elves? Do you like the Silmarillion? Do you like Fëanor and co? And most of all, do you like spending hours thinking about minor details pertaining to made-up languages??? If so, boy do I have a treat for you! Let’s delve into the weird world of Fëanorian Quenya and explore some history and mechanics of why they talk Like That.

I’ve seen a lot of posts joking about the Fëanorian lisp, which is about as funny as a joke about a speech impediment can be. 👍 It’s important to understand, though, that this IS a joke. No, they didn’t really speak with a lisp. Yes, they did pronounce some S sounds as TH. That’s the critical disclaimer here: SOME. It’s not a blanket pronunciation. There’s a lot of background research that goes into determining which words would be pronounced with S and which would be TH, and that’s what we’re going to look at.

So if this is something you’ve come across in fandom and you’re not totally sure on the details, or if you ARE sure and just want some more in-depth info, read on.

The stuff probably everybody knows already

For anyone who’s been hanging around the Fëanorian corner of the Silm fandom for more than three minutes, there’s about a 100% chance you’ve heard of Fëanor’s penchant for retaining an archaic TH pronunciation after the majority of the Noldor went ahead and started pronouncing this sound as S instead. You may also know that this sound is represented by the letter thorn (Þ) in HoME, but since thorn doesn’t exist in modern English orthography and it’s a pain to keep typing the ALT code, I’m sticking to TH here. Anyway, all this was due to the fact that Fëanor was a huge mama’s boy, and his mom Míriel Therindë (later called Serindë, which made Fëanor want to punch walls and possibly also fellow elves) was an outlier who retained the TH after it fell out of use. Her son Fëanor, in turn, kept this up to honor her. Now, whether or not he would have bothered if this sound hadn’t literally been a critical part of her name is debatable, but that debate is outside the scope of this essay.

Fëanor continued to use the TH pronunciation until his death, and required his sons to use it as well. Finwë, however, switched over to S after the death of Míriel and before his marriage to Indis. Fëanor, reasonable and level-headed as he was, took this as a personal insult and decided that anybody who rejected TH likewise rejected him. So presumably, his loyal followers would have obeyed his totally reasonable demands not to give in to the seductive S-shift.

Why tho

Why did the Noldor decide to alter their pronunciation from TH to S? Great question. Nobody really knows. For the hell of it? IDK. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But the important thing to understand is that elves, and especially Noldor, were really committed to making sure their language sounds cool. This is why it changed so much and so comparatively quickly for an immortal population: they were actively invested in changing it. They liked inventing new words and exploring new sounds and messing around with grammar.

So at some point some influential Noldo might have been like, hey y’all, let’s stop saying TH and say S instead! And everyone (except Míriel I guess, who was known for her elegant manner of speech and didn’t want to muck that up by changing pronunciation of a whole letter) was like, whoa, capital idea my good egg. And they went with it. Previous ideas along these lines included ‘hey y’all, let’s stop saying KH and say H instead’ and ‘hey y’all, let’s stop saying Z and say R instead’, and those went over swimmingly. Nobody could have foreseen the problem this TH to S business would cause.

Now here’s a fun fact. There was another change to Noldorin pronunciation that happened AFTER Fëanor’s birth, that he himself was involved in. This one was all about bilabial to labiodental F. And those sure are some words, so if you don’t know what I’m talking about (I don’t blame you), BILABIAL is a more whispery sound that happens when you say F using only air passing through your pursed lips, and LABIODENTAL is when you say F with your top teeth touching your bottom lip. Going forward I’m going to use PH to represent the bilabial sound, and F for the labiodental.

So F got on the radar of the Noldor via the Teleri, who used this sound in their language. And ol’ Fëanor figured it would be awesome to incorporate it into Quenya because he thought the PH sounded too close to HW, and the two were getting confused by lazy speakers. Why did he care? Because of his dad’s name and his own, of course. If people started to get lazy in their pronunciation, we’d end up with Hwinwë and Hwëanáro, which would be terrible and stupid and unacceptable. He accused the Vanyar of leaning down that road, and he wanted to stop that kind of shift before it happened to the Noldor. How to do that? Why, by instigating a different shift from traditional Noldorin PH to Telerin F!

“Hey y’all, let’s stop saying PH and say F instead!”

“Whoa, capital idea my good egg.”

Moral of the story: Fëanor is only concerned with Quenya pronunciation insofar as it affects his own name and the names of family members he likes. He does not care whether it’s staying the same or moving to a new sound so long as it personally makes him feel good and his name sound cool. Therefore the true way to piss him off would be to call him Curuhwinwë Hwëanáro, son of Serindë.

Okay so here’s how it works

Now that history is out of the way, let’s get back to how TH was used by the Fëanorians. As I mentioned earlier, TH wasn’t a blanket pronunciation. It all depended on the original form of the word, and whether the root had a TH or an S. And some very similar-sounding words come from different roots, so this can get tricky. A great resource that’ll give you this information is Eldamo: Quenya words where the S was originally TH are marked out with the Þ (thorn) symbol in the wordlist.

Some examples:

Súlë (spirit, breath) comes from the root THŪ, which means it would be pronounced with a TH. Silma (white crystal) comes from the root SIL, so it and related words like Silmaril would be pronounced with an S. No Fëanorian would say Thilmaril. Isil (moon), however, is a similar-sounding word that comes from a different root: THIL. Olos (mass of flowers) comes from the word LOTH, but: Olos (dream) comes from the root LOS. Fëanorian pronunciation would immediately differentiate between these two words.

While Fëanorians may have retained the distinct pronunciation of TH vs S, other Noldor can still differentiate between original S and S-that-used-to-be-TH in their writing. There are specific tengwar to use depending on the word’s original form. Silmë (the one that looks like a 6) is used for original S, while súlë (or thúlë, the one that looks like an h) is used for original TH.

Which other elves used this sound in their speech?

Fandom has really latched on to this TH as a Fëanorian thing, but it wasn’t that exclusively. The TH sound was actually ubiquitous in other elven languages, and in Valinor, only the Noldor dropped it. It was still used in Telerin and in Vanyarin Quendya. The Vanyar retained the TH not because of anything to do with Míriel, but just because they were a little more conservative and their language didn’t pick up on all the changes that the Noldor made. They also noped out of the Z to R shift the Noldor initiated, opting to keep the Z around.

When Indis married Finwë, she stopped using the normal Vanyarin TH and switched over to S as a gesture of loyalty to him and his people. Finarfin, however, out of love for the Vanyar and Teleri, switched BACK to TH. I like to think about how much it would have annoyed Fëanor that his snot-nosed kid brother was speaking correctly, but for the wrong reason. Go down one more generation, and Galadriel very specifically did not use TH. But this time it was absolutely a choice made as a glaring middle finger to Fëanor.

What this means for your fanfic or whatever

The big takeaway here: you can’t just have Fëanorians replace every S with TH and call it a day.

If you’re inventing names for your Fëanorian OCs or coming up with phrases for them to say, it’s important to look into the history of all Quenya S-words you end up using to determine if they should be S or TH. If Fëanor got mad about somebody saying Serindë instead of Therindë, he’d get equally mad about somebody saying Thilmaril instead of Silmaril and assume they were mocking him. Remember: this is a dude with no chill. (On the other hand, if you WANT somebody to be mocking Fëanor, Galadriel would 100% do this because she has an equally negligible amount of chill.)

It’s also important to note that the TH isn’t a true shibboleth, since pretty much all elves EXCEPT the non-Fëanorian Noldor use it. And even the S-preferring Noldor would still be able to pronounce the TH. Those who went into exile would go on to use it commonly in Sindarin, and those who remained in Valinor would still encounter it among the Vanyar and Teleri. So if you’re writing a scene where somebody has to pronounce a TH word to prove their loyalty… yeah, everyone can pass this test. And in the opposite direction, you can’t use TH to prove somebody’s an evil Fëanorian, either. They might just be Vanyarin or something. Or, like. Really Old.

Would the sons (and followers) of Fëanor keep using TH after his death? Oh hell yeah. This is an entire family unfamiliar with the concept of not dying on hills. They will keep using it unto the ending of the world. Actually, with Sindarin becoming the common language of Middle-earth from the First Age, probably not a lot of change happened in exilic Quenya. It became a lore language: a piece of living history. It would have been preserved as it was when the original speakers left Valinor.

(And then, thousands of years later, Galadriel finally returns home to Tirion like, Long have mine eyes awaited this most blissful of sights, and ne’er hath my sprit soared with such grace, for I am returned! And all the Amanyar Noldor stare at her like, whatchu bangin on bout, eh? Because they had nothing better to do in the peace of Valinor than push Quenya to brave and frankly questionable new horizons.)

Anyway, there you go: a somewhat brief history of Fëanorian Quenya. I hope you found this informative and useful, or at the very least not boring. Obvs this is super condensed and, uh, not particularly scholarly, but I promise I know what I’m talking about. I have a university degree! (Not in anything even remotely related to what’s written above, but I hardly see how that’s relevant. It’s still a DEGREE.)

Questions? Need clarification or want more info? My asks are always open!

#feanor #silmarillion #quenya #tolkien #middle earth

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 15 of 27: Fireworks

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHOOSE ME INSTEAD MASTERLIST

A/N: I was feeling sick for the past few days that’s why this chapter is a little late. Love you all so much for your amazing feedback and support! I hope you’ll like the chapter! <33

Words: 4.1k Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader, post-war Warnings: none

Whispers in a dark room, soft touches, kisses all over your bodies; a laugh so bright and full of life, it made his heart ache. Clothes on the floor, candles lit on the nightstand, your perfume lingering in the air. The way, he ran his fingers through your air; the sound of your heartbeat underneath your skin.

Draco’s mind kept wandering back to the moments in the hotel room. Every fiber of his body wanted to go back, wanted to feel close to you again. He hadn’t realized how starved he was for human connection until your lips found his.

“Draco!”

Draco flinched and almost dropped his knife, when his mother called his name sharply. Narzissa Malfoy sat across the table, sending him a warning look.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” he mumbled. “I was …”

“Dreaming,” she finished his sentence. “You’ve been distracted all day, Draco. It’s impolite to our guests.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Narzissa,” Mrs. Greengrass chirped. “Astoria is just as quiet today. Who can blame them, really? They don’t care about our gossip.” When she laughed, Draco noticed that her eyes grew so small, they were hardly visible anymore. It made him wonder where her daughters got their beauty from. It certainly didn’t come from their mother.

He looked to his side where Astoria absently stared at her table. She had barely touched the food yet. Something seemed to bother her.

Narzissa had invited Mrs. Greengrass and Astoria for lunch today. “Just to catch up,” she had said to her son. However, he knew that wasn’t the full truth. His mother was worried. Very worried.

In the beginning, she had believed dating a Gryffindor was just an excuse for Draco. A way to postpone the engagement a little longer. Those games happened more often than anyone would like to admit but she knew quite a few similar stories. However, after the holidays and after seeing him for the first time since the school year started – she had noticed something. A change in him. Small and tiny, like a daisy trying to grow in the cracks of old pavement, but it was there. And it kept on growing.

Draco had smiled when he came home – and when Narzissa asked him about you, there was a spark in his eyes and happiness in his voice. It left her wondering if the whole relationship thing wasn’t an excuse after all.

Narzissa wanted Draco to be happy, of course. He was her only son, her pride and joy, the love of her life. He had to endure so much pain and suffering in his young life and a lot of it was undoubtedly caused by her husband and herself. A fact that broke her heart and filled her with guilt, every time she looked at Draco. So what kind of mother would she be if she didn’t wish for Draco to find his way back to life and for him to be with someone who offered him the peace and stability he so desperately craved?

However … she was still a Malfoy – and a Black. And your family? Despite being Purebloods and also quite comfortable in their ways of living, they were different. She had experienced this first hand when they came to the Manor two years ago, demanding to know the whereabouts of their other daughter. No, after the scene that unfolded that afternoon, Narzissa highly doubted that a union of their families would bring anything other than chaos. It would be as if Draco tried to marry into the Weasley family. Not at all suitable for a man from his background.

But a marriage with a Greengrass? In Narzissas mind, it would be truly perfect. They had so many similarities – growing up in the same circles, living in the same Hogwarts house, sharing friends and values. Perfect, Narzissa had thought when Mrs. Greengrass asked her about a potential engagement between their children. And in a very self-centered way, she also realized that this would get her family back their former reputation. It would mean money and status and another chance at the life she had lost after the war. Draco just needed to marry Astoria. It wasn’t too much to ask. After all, Narzissa didn’t love Lucius when they got engaged – the feelings grew over time. Surely, it would be the same for Draco and she was certain that he would be happy with Astoria. There was nothing wrong with arranged marriages – they were practiced among pureblood families for centuries. So why break that tradition now, in a moment, where the Malfoys needed it the most?

When Draco came home after Christmas and spoke about you, Narzissa knew instantly that it was time to act. He didn’t realize it yet, but Narzissa saw it – if she didn’t put a stop to it now, Draco would soon know that his feelings succeeded the ones of a teenage crush. Under no circumstances could he find out, that what he felt – under all the confusion – was love. Luckily (at least for her in this exact moment), her son was an expert at swallowing down his true feelings and pushing others away. So there was still hope for Narzissa. He simply needed to spend more time with Astoria to realize that the future of his family was more important than you.

As a start, she had invited Mrs. Greengrass and Astoria over for lunch. Afterwards, Narzissa planned on going on a long walk with Mrs. Greengrass, leaving their children alone together. Now, she looked at the faces of the two of them, bored and distracted, and decided that maybe sooner would be better than later.

“How about,” she turned to Mrs. Greengrass, “we go for a walk and let these two catch up.”

Draco frowned. “We’re not done eating yet. Isn’t there des –”

„It’s alright, I’m not that hungry,” Mrs. Greengrass interrupted him. She had picked up on Narzissas undertone. The two women stood up, gracefully as always, and smiled at their children.

“You spent the whole morning talking about how you looked forward to this lunch, mum,” Astoria pointed out, barely hiding her annoyance.

Her mother laughed. “Nonsense, honey.” She put her hand to her daughter’s cheek. “Have fun, you two.”

When the door fell shut behind their mothers, Draco snorted and shook his head. Astoria stayed quiet. Her eyes were back on the plate. She still hadn’t touched the food.

“You don’t like it?”, Draco asked.

“Would you be offended if I said no?”, she asked dryly.

“Slighty,” he raised an eyebrow, “mainly because I know from first-hand experience that our house elves cook better than yours.”

“Right,” she scoffed. “Because for everything the Greengrasses have to offer, you find something better.”

Draco stopped his fork right in front of his mouth. Lowering it, he turned to look at her. “That took a conversational left turn.”

The black-haired woman simply stared at her plate, clenching her teeth.

Draco sighed. He sensed where this was going. “Just say it, Astoria.”

Finally, she reacted. With a little too much force, she slammed her fork down. “I said it,” she tried to keep her voice calm and steady. “Time and time again. Quite frankly, I’m tired of repeating myself.”

“Is this about Y/N again?”

“No!”, she spat. All gone was the attempt of acting calm. “Not everything is about that –”

“Careful,” Draco warned her and leaned back against the chair.

She raised her hand but then took a deep breath. “Not everything is about her.”

He waited for Astoria to keep talking – but she didn’t. Oh, how tired he was of having the same discussions with her all over again. “Then what’s your problem today?”

“You’re an asshole,” she snarled.

He shrugged. It was probably true.

Astoria shifted in her seat and for the first time, since they had sat down to eat, did she look at him. He saw the anger and frustration in her eyes.

“Why don’t you want to marry me?”, she asked.

The question – and the confidence she asked it with – took him off guard. Draco frowned. “What?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s clear that you don’t. I’m asking you why.”

Because I don’t want to end up like my parents, was the first thought that popped in his head. It surprised him. He loved his parents and had spent most of his life looking up to them – but the thought of entering the same lives as they did over twenty years ago … It scared him. A young marriage to someone he didn’t love, being surrounded by people like them, raising kids in an environment as hateful and strict as the one he grew up in … He didn’t want that.

It wouldn’t be that way with you.

He swallowed at the new thought, wondering where it came from. Well, obviously, spending so much time with you in a literal “What if?”-scenario, would give him all sorts of ideas. Yet, he couldn’t help but think that whoever you chose to spend a life with – you’d be different. The family you started would be different. Your house would be filled with love and laughter and you’d adore and support your family no matter what. He just knew.

As if Astoria had read his mind, she suddenly asked: “What can she offer you that I can’t?”

Everything. And nothing at all.

Draco was irritated at the wording. “Offer me?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “What can she and her family offer you –”

“She doesn’t offer me anything,” he clarified. “Neither does her family. She or you are not something I can buy.”

Astoria groaned and threw her head back. “Oh, Merlin, don’t go all Gryffindor-feminist on me. You know what I mean.”

He did. But he wasn’t keen on explaining to the young Greengrass why he preferred to spend his time with a Gryffindor over her. “I’m not planning on marrying her anytime soon, Astoria,” he said instead, a lot softer now.

“Great,” the sarcasm was dripping from Astorias voice. “Then we can get engaged.”

Draco let out a long breath. “No.”

She crossed her hands in front of her chest. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to,” he burst out. Merlin, why couldn’t she just leave him alone?!

“Why not?”

He wiped his hand over his eyes, suddenly feeling tired and exhausted. “Because I don’t have feelings for you.”

There was a brief moment of silence in which Astoria simply looked at him. Then suddenly the corners of her mouth began to twitch. Before he knew what was happening, she started laughing. It was loud and shrill. “Oh, Draco, that’s adorable,” she managed to get out. “Do you think I have feelings for you?”

Confused, he blinked.

The smile on her face vanished. “You know damn well that marriages in our circles are rarely about feelings.”

Draco shrugged. “Well, they should be.”

“What happened to you, Malfoy? Seriously.”

Again, there was this awkward pause between the two Slytherins. Resentment and frustration hung in the air and Draco wished for his mother to come back right this moment. Looking at Astoria however, a girl so proud and ambitious most of the time, another thought entered his mind. He had wondered about this a few times already.

“I don’t get it,” Draco began. “There are probably dozens of men who would love to marry you. Hell, even Blaise or Theo would say yes to an engagement. Why are you so set on marrying me? Especially if there are no feelings involved?”

Her eyes flickered away. She shifted uncomfortably. “We grew up together, I think you’d be a good fit.”

Draco scoffed. “Yeah, right, and Jesus was a muggle.” He didn’t believe her one bit. “Spill it, Astoria. All I have done for the past months is embarrassing you. Why do you want to marry me so badly?”

She pressed her lips together.

“Are your parents forcing you?”, he continued. “I honestly doubt that your father is thrilled about having me as his son-in-law.”

Astoria rolled her eyes at him. “They’re not.”

“Then what is it?”

Silence. She wouldn’t look at him but this behavior only sparked his curiosity even more.

When she spoke again, her voice was unusually quiet. Almost timid. “I just don’t know what you see in her. She’s not like us.”

That’s exactly it, Draco thought. He didn’t say it though. Instead, he leaned forward and reached for her hand. He stroked over it in a calming manner with his thumb. “Astoria, we’ve been friends for so long now. Just tell me –”

Quickly, she pulled away. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

 ***

New Year’s Eve …

Draco stood in front of the huge windows, overlooking the dark gardens of the Greengrass estate. It smelled heavily of flowers from all over the world in the greenhouse. The scent would have probably given him a headache if he hadn’t already finished a glass of firewhiskey. In the distance, he could see the lights coming from the big mansion. He saw silhouettes of the guests and wondered if they were really having a good time or if they were just pretending. Like he was.

After returning from the walk, Mrs. Greengrass had announced that Narzissa and Draco needed to join them for the night to celebrate the New Year together. He saw how it hurt his mothers pride to be invited so last minute, however, she accepted with a smile. And now they were here. It wasn’t a big party, just a few of their closest friends. Still, too many people for Dracos taste and so he hid in here.

Looking out at the window, he wondered what you were doing tonight. Since getting back, neither of you had sent a letter. Two nights in the hotel, memories that caused shivers to run down his spine, and a promise that it would mean nothing. It left him unsure of what to do next. How were you spending the night? Were you at a party? Getting drunk with friends, maybe even sharing a kiss with someone when the clock turned twelve?

He gritted his teeth at the though. Stop it, Draco reminded himself. Stop getting attached. You’re not dating, she’s free to do as she pleases.

“We used to play Hide and Seek here,” a voice interrupted his thoughts. “With Daphne. Remember?”

Astoria. He didn’t need to turn around to recognize her voice. “I do,” he nodded, still looking out in the gardens. “You were so bad at it.”

She chuckled. “I know.”

Draco glanced at her. They hadn’t spoken since the lunch earlier today and he had suspected her to still be upset. When she smiled at him however, the smell of wine hit him. Well, this explained her mood.

“I loved this place,” Draco said, knowing it was best not to address her drunken state. He raised the glass of firewhiskey to his lips.

“I know. You fucked Daphne in here.”

The words caused him to choke on his drink. He coughed heavily when he felt the burning liquid running down his throat. With red cheeks and tears in his eyes from the sudden reaction of his body, he turned to face her.

Astoria wasn’t fazed at all. “Didn’t you?”, her voice cheery.

Draco stared at her.

“She told me,” Astoria continued. “Summer before your sixth year.”

“Why are we talking about this?”, he finally asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

She shrugged. “Just popped into my head when I saw you standing here.”

She said it so nonchalantly and looked out of the window – it confused Draco even more. Truthfully, he was also a little shocked by her choice of words. He never heard her talk like that. Never. Draco shook his head and took another sip of his drink.

“What did you see in her?”, she asked innocently.

“In your sister?”

“Yes,” Astoria nodded.

He shook his head again. “Astoria, you’re drunk.”

“No, tell me,” she demanded with more force now and looked at him. Her cheeks were rosy and the hair messy as if she had spent the last hour dancing.

“Nothing, I –,” Draco groaned. “It was a summer fling. We barely dated.”

“But what did you see in her?”, Astoria repeated herself. “You choose everyone but me.”

Oh.

Here we go again. She looked at Draco and for the first time, he noticed something. Maybe it was a product of the alcohol or maybe it was truly because of him: she was hurt. Gone was all the pride and anger. Only sadness and a hint of desperation was left in those jade-green eyes, as she stared up at him.

Because of me?, Draco wondered. Was he the reason for her pain?

Astoria blinked and again, something changed. As if she tried to put on a mask, a smile appeared on her face. “Maybe you could see something in me if we just …” She made a step towards him. Draco backed away. Behind him were only the windows though.

“You’re drunk,” he stated again.

She giggled. “I’m just a little tipsy. It’s okay though …” Another step forward and suddenly she stumbled. Out of instinct, Draco put his arm around her waist to keep her from falling to the ground. She leaned against him now, pressing her petite body against his. He crinkled his nose when the smell of wine hit him again.

“Astoria … don’t,” he said softly.

She reached for the button on his shirt, clumsily trying to open it. Draco tensed up and she stopped. “Why not?”, she asked, tilting her head. In a sick way, it reminded him of the way you would look at him. The difference was, however, that he liked it when you did it.

He released his grip from her and carefully tried to get free of her fumbling hands. “Don’t, no, I can’t deal with this,” he mumbled and successfully took a step to the side.

Seeing her like this, it was a picture of misery. She cleared her throat, her hands shaking slightly. Draco wondered if she suppressed tears and the thought filled him with guilt. It made him choke up. So much guilt for so many things … he didn’t have room in his heart for anymore. He needed to get out of the greenhouse, he wanted to go home. No, not home. To Hogwarts. To you.

He reached for his tie. It was hard for him to breathe all of the sudden. Those fucking flowers, there was no air left for him. When he stumbled backwards, trying to get to the door, Astoria laughed. “Right because you can fuck everyone but me.”

“I ...”, Draco swallowed and right in this moment fireworks went off. Midnight. Outside, the sky was filled with bright colors. Red, orange, yellow, green. It was too much, too loud.

“Happy fucking New Year, Malfoy.”

 ***

“How much can you possibly fit in this book?”, Blaise asked.

Draco looked up at his question. “It’s not my first one.”

“Oh,” his friend made. “I thought it was a magic book or something.”

Draco shook his head before turning his attention back to the pages, filling them with what happened over the holidays. All the little details, he didn’t want to forget a single day. Well, except for the 31st of December maybe.

Draco, Blaise and Theo were currently sitting in a small section in the Hogwarts Express. They would reach Hogsmeade any minute now. It was snowing heavily outside, making Scotlands landscape resemble the one of a fairytale.

Draco was looking forward to returning to school. At home, he felt like he couldn’t breathe most of the time. Too many memories were left in the walls of the Mansion and seemed to haunt him whenever he wandered the now empty halls. If he were honest with himself, there was one more reason though. You. He’d see you again. For the first time since Christmas.

“I thought about starting one of those,” Theo suddenly admitted.

Draco looked up again, only slightly annoyed at the disturbance. He raised his eyebrows. “You were.”

His friend nodded.

“Why?”, Blaise asked.

Theo shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea. Besides, maybe it helps me get out of the therapy sessions.” He looked at Draco and added with a lot of sarcasm: “Thank your girlfriend for that, by the way.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

Blaise chuckled. “So, they’ve gotten to you.”

Theo nodded.

“It’s not that bad,” Draco said and added when he was met with doubting glances: “Just talk about what she wants and it’ll be over sooner than later.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Theo replied. “What does she want to talk about with me?! I’m fine.”

“Are you?”, Draco asked but it was overheard when Blaise loudly announced: “Maybe she wants to talk about your messed up father.”

“Huh,” Theo made at that statement. He looked out of the window. Draco watched him and just before he could say something else, the train arrived in Hogsmeade. Theo got up abruptly, before they even stopped. “Well, anyways. Let’s go.”

“Hit a nerve there,” Blaise said quietly when Theo stepped out of their section.

Draco shrugged. He truly couldn’t tell how his friend felt. It wasn’t something they talked about, thanks to their Death Eater upbringing. Feelings were something you dealt with yourself and didn’t burden others with. However, he guessed that Theo wasn’t as happy as he pretended to be.

It was freezing cold outside. Thick snowflakes and an icy wind hit his face and Draco was mad at himself for forgetting to get out his scarf from his suitcase. They could hardly see anything and when someone hit them with a snowball, Blaise lost it and hexed a first grader.

“Missed detention so much?”, Draco snarled.

“He deserved it,” his friend replied and ignored the angry shouts of the first graders friends.

They arrived the carriages after what felt like an eternity. Did they magically lengthen the way to them? When Draco climbed inside, he sighed in relief. They were warm and cozy.

“Thank Merlin,” he mumbled and got out his wand to dry off the snow.

Theo and Blaise followed inside. Their eyes flickered only briefly to the Thestrals in front of the carriage. It had been quite a surprise for most of the students to come back in the beginning of the school year and see that the carriages weren’t driving by themselves after all.

Just when Draco made himself a little more comfortable and waited for the Thestrals to start making their way towards the castle, the door opened another time.

“Can I ride with you?”

You. Draco froze when he saw you, smiling at him nervously. You looked adorable in your Gryffindor attire – the hat pulled down over your ears, the red scarf tightly thrown around your neck. Adorable?!, he asked himself. What the hell, Draco.

“Sure,” Theo answered when Draco didn’t reply and changed his seat so that you could sit next to him.

“Thanks!” You climbed inside, lips trembling slightly from the cold outside. Just like he did, moments earlier, you sighed when you realized it was warm inside. You got rid of your hat and gloves, before looking at Draco again. “Hi.”

When Draco saw the smile on your face, it felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. It wasn’t awkward between the two of you. Nothing had changed. It would just be like the night never happened. “Hi,” he said.

“Nah, come on, Draco, don’t be shy,” Blaise rolled his eyes and Theo grinned. “Is that how you greet your girlfriend after a week apart?”

“Shut up,” he shot at them.

Looking back at you, there was a challenging look on your face. You had raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to act. He hadn’t expected it. However, he knew what you were thinking. He should probably kiss you. Just for the sake of keeping this charade alive.

Carefully, Draco leaned forward. Just a quick kiss, he thought. He closed his eyes and then his lips met yours.

Fireworks.

The only description, he thought was fitting. Your lips touched only for a few seconds and yet something happened. A wave of memories hit him when he breathed in the smell of your shampoo. Suddenly, he was back in that hotel room and it was only the two of you. Almost out of instinct, he raised his hand to your cheeks and the once innocent kiss changed. He felt your hand gripping his shoulder tightly as you leaned in, desperate to get more.

It was Blaise who ended the kiss – with a click of his tongue, followed by a disgusted: “Okay, by Merlin, get a room, you two.”

***

A/N: My looooves, please bare with me. I know this is such a slow burn :D I Hope you still like it! I promise you, the pretending will end some day! <33

CHAPTER 16

Choose Me Instead Masterlist HP Masterlist Tag List:  @writerdee1701, @youareinllve, @sjmahoney, @detroitobsessed, @takura-rin, @jadam268, @wynterwind, @mina672, @renaissance-confiance, @harpoon999, @doitforthevine67, @rinasrights, @flowerpowerpixie, @gold-flowing, @starkssnarks, @bookcornerkins, @harpersmariano, @markedsweetly, @iraniq, @pointlesscoconut, @hvrcruxes, @pillowjj, @idkatee, @jungjxxhyun,   @magicwithaknife, @graystherapy, @sophia-gwendolyn, @nxstalgicnxbxdy, @sunsetsofanemoia, @s4dthrills, @tommy-holland, @lordfxxker, @streetfighterrichie, @awaken-the-sirens, @destiels-assbutt13, @pockitparks, @just-addicted-to-bangtan, @cuddlykoala101, @zpandaqueen, @marvelpeters, @natsiboo, @jjjmaybank, @justmesadgirl, @books-and-tings, @slytherinprincedracom, @katiaw2, @saintkore, @nctnight, @lifestragedy, @obxmxybxnk, @spideydobik , @ladylizzieofdarbyshire, @aspiring-ginger, @dracomalfoyswifey, @jpow345, @realistic-breadstick, @h-annahayy, @abbs-is-tired, @alwaysbeanunknownfan, @niallsarmveinstho, @is-this-a-febreze-commercial, @acciowilltolive, @spideysmcu, @sexytholland, @faangirl101, @donttellany1iusetumbler, @mendesmuffinsss, @lilxnvm, @kill-the-teen-memories, @darkusangelus, @p0gue420, @itsbebeyyy, @hesaidimcrazy, @jenniweaslee, @hpxpjo, @brisbubble, @xomaymay, @shitnstuffillregret, @serialkillme, @angel-tears15, @panicattheeverywherekid, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @africana , @disgraceisonfire, @nobleking, @tashii-blr, @ddaeing, @randogirlo-fando-main, @sadgirlnumber92899, @captivateing, @bitchyegirl, @smiithys, @ninipoo1, @intheawks, @cherrylita, @nothanksnyla, @calpal-4ever, @dracosathenaeum, @belsandthings, @lifeasdreamgirl , @kiwi-sloan, @xdmx, @lexi-ravenclawdracomalfoy, @kvyenxay, @live-awkward, @babebenhardy, @bitchysweets-blog, @cravingmusic, @frau-moon, @ohissandhalasta, @noravirginia1994, @broken-but-beautiful-cassie​, @lil-black-heart​, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything​, @vminenthusiastt​, @dracos-slut​, @ohbabycal​, @saucysuazo​, @fuzzzwald​, @matsuno-nadeshiko​, @amber-arsenault​ , @virtuallawyergardenbailiff, @loveableasshole​, @thehippyprepster​, @spideycures​, @echpr​, @shiningstar-byulxx​, @profoundmoneyprofessoralmond, @twinklebug2282​, @bloodiedroses​, @klthmef​, @ostorian​ ,  @bi-chai-tea​, @maddieisnotok​, @amandaluvssupernatural​, @makeoutwithstiles​, @kelly182001, @holyranchgoopjudge,  @i-am-addicted-to-tea​, @tenclouds​, @lovingdracomalfoy​, @lannaax​, @dr-bitch-bby​, @lunardragon616, @fallinallinmendes​, @suckerforparker​, @runninglownad​, @piercinghorizons​, @dosicas​, @sarashuu, @yanaaaaaaa​, @desertdwellerwitch, @bittersweetthoughts–ofinsanity, @akzer300500​, @bbeautyybbx, @hoseokslily​, @dracofeltonmalfoy​, @emilianamason​, @tothemoonwithclifford​, @gcldreinhart​ ,  @piercinghorizons​, @angelofthorr​, @k-k0129​, @musicalmuffindog1410​, @andydre4m​, @mxl-foyrecs​, @seeinorange​, @vlgsqd​ , @strivingforelegance

Tell me, if you want to be added to my tag list <3

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco x reader #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco #malfoy #draco malfoy x gryffindor #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #hogwarts #hogwarts imagines #hogwarts imagine #slytherin x gryffindor #slytherin imagine #slytherin #gryffindor #gryffindor imagine #astrids fics

[xinasvoice]

Opening lines...

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have fewer than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some people to take part.

This sounds like a pretty interesting tag game, thank you @wanderingbandurria! I am honestly curious what I will find. In reverse chronological order.. 1. "The press conference was loud and full of jostling." From New, Yet Tangible. - Bad start, this is hecka boring! 😂

2. "By Remus’ standards, it was an unbearably hot, dry morning, but a local would probably call it pleasant." From Under the Eucalyptus. - Better. It at least gets you wondering where Remus is and where he is from. Still, it's the WEATHER, lol!!

3. " “I do not need a nickname,” Zuko insisted." From A Team Avatar Tradition. - Fits, tells you what this short, silly thing is about. 4. " “Hey Moons, whatcha doing?” " From One, All In Black. - - Dialogue without a speech tag. Interesting. I think it's fine. It's the rest of the paragraph, that's supposed to hook you in this one lol.

5. "It was a very small island, no more than a mile across, and about half as wide." From Of Barnacles and Mermen. - I actually like starting with the location for this one, since it's so central to the plot.

6. " “Of course you pick Truth.” " From An Explicit Truth. - This is solid. Dialogue is a nice way to start, and you get they're playing Truth Or Dare right off. 7. "At the ripe and rapidly growing age of seventeen, Remus was all for going out to eat, especially since it was the first time The Marauders-Plus-Lily had had a chance to be together all summer, but the sight of the weather-stained red awning over the restaurant door made him freeze in his tracks." From An Embarrassing Yet Overwhelmingly Wonderful Incident at a Chinese Restaurant. - This is definitely the best so far. Captures the run-on style of the writing for the series, and makes you go what, why are you afraid of a restaurant, Remus?? Five stars, lol.

8. "It was dark, dingy, and sticky, even for a strip club. Fortunately, Sirius had both a pile of money that he was deeply ashamed of and an energetic husband that he had never once been ashamed of, so he had some faith. " From The Phoenix and the Lion. - Including 2 sentences here because they go together and I'm not above cheating! I think it's a lovely start. 9. "A dozen or so turkey sandwiches coaxed from the house elves in the school kitchens later, the Marauders began the journey up to Gryffindor Tower." From A Continuation Involving Powdered Donuts and Fits of Erotic Panic. - It's got that cozy Hogwarts feel! And it lets you know right off you are jumping in to a sequel and should read the first one for context, I suppose. 10. "Dinner at Number 12 Grimmauld Place was often an uncertain affair." From Something True. - Oof, from the first line alone here, you would think the story is about something COMPLETELY different (abuse at Grimmauld Place instead of a lovely chosen family scene and marriage proposal). Ouch. 11. " “It was noses first with me,” Dora said. " From Say Something. Eh, it's alright. 12. "It was late on a Friday evening in the Gryffindor common room." From Second Spin. Boring! 13. "The memory of Remus’ smug, swotty grin stuck hard in Sirius’ head." From Two Can Play. - Much better. Already planting the idea of (sexy) revenge, lol! 14. " “All righty, you’ve got both solid and liquid forms of chocolate, a book, a levitating charm to hold the book up because that thing is too fucking heavy for your sad sprained wrists…what am I missing?” " From The Best Medicine. - Um, pampering Remus is adorable? Yes, please? 15. "Casting a shifty eye around for the conductor, Remus pushed open the doors between the train cars and stepped into the car with the private compartments." From Midday Train to London. Well, this makes it look like I wrote a train heist. Fuck, should I write a train heist??? 16. "The only thing worse than being trapped in an utterly silent room with Sirius Black was not being able to complain about being trapped in an utterly silent room with Sirius Black." From The Ridiculous but Overall Enjoyable Consequences of Silencing Sirius Black. - Standing ovation!! Well done, Past Xina. 17. "Remus’ heart stuttered with hope as a large, oddly shaped building loomed out of the fog." From Go East. - Pretty good! It does provoke the curiosity. 18. "There were easily six hundred people living in the Paramount building in downtown San Francisco." From Problems with Narrative Structure and the Rules of Manly Engagement. - The last one! Another one establishing the setting, but it isn't that interesting on its own.

+++

In summary, I have now accidentally made a master list.

#16 is definitely the winner. In general, I would say my first lines waver a lot, but if we were to look at first paragraphs I think we would see a respectable hook in pretty much every one. Also, I am developing a theory that the type of first line says something about the genre of the story... Tagging @champagneandliterature @femme--de--lettres @mostlyoptimisticdinosaur and @remus

#ive also just had a fun idea #hang on #xinasvoice: under the hood

[baixueagain]

I haven't read hp in a long time, so I may be wrong. But wasn't the thing about house-elves wanting to stay slaves also a critic of Hermione's behavior and how she thought that just she was doing the right thing in her mindset didn't mean it was the same thing for the people concerned, and that she was basically trampling over them to "enlighten" them?

Yeahhhh the house elf thing is...well, honestly I don’t actually think it’s nearly as bad as people say it is. The metaphor she’s using is (like the werewolf thing) insensitive and could’ve been handled way, way better, but the fundamental message of it isn’t actually that controversial or hideous.

First of all, there’s the whole idea that JKR invented a race of slaves. I’m leery of this statement, because throughout HP, especially in the early books when house elves are introduced, JKR plays a lot with classic folklore. House elves/fairies, while not being as well-known in America, are a pretty common trope in European and British folklore. There are dozens of stories and legends and folk tales about how people can leave out butter or other things for the spirits of the house (often elves or fairies), and that in exchange the spirits would clean and do other chores for you. So JKR picked that up and ran with it, and asked, okay, what if those stories were real, but wizards figured out a way to manipulate that traditional exchange into a form of exploitation?

JKR pretty clearly problematizes what’s happened to the house elves from the get-go when we meet Dobby. Those who treat elves as subservient and inherently lesser are consistently portrayed as straight up evil (Lucius Malfoy, the Ministry statue, etc). Harry isn’t actually that dismissive of Hermione’s views, either. He wrestles with it, too, and feels distinctly uncomfortable, but for some time he doesn’t really seem to know what else to do except to go along with it - which, while not a good thing, is a completely normal reaction for a young teenager to have when faced with that kind of situation. Furthermore, while in general house elves are “said” to be happy with their situation, the two major house elf characters (Dobby and Kreacher) are portrayed as distinctively unhappy about it from the moment of their introduction, though Kreacher has clearly internalised things. Even Sirius’s mistreatment of Kreacher is portrayed as a massive flaw in his character and a giveaway that he’s not exactly the perfect Cool Uncle Type that we originally see him as. Finally, don’t forget that one of the most triumphant moments of DH is Kreacher getting fed the fuck up with the way he’s been treated all his life and leading what amounts to a house elf revolution against those who would keep house elves completely and utterly subservient for the rest of time.

As for Hermione, IMO she’s portrayed as having her heart in the right place but going about things all wrong, to the point that her ignorance about the situation becomes comedic. Which...honestly, that comes across as a pretty apt criticism of the “saviour” types who really sincerely do want to fix the world but end up just talking over the people they’re trying to help - and ultimately pushing those people away.

JKR never actually questions whether or not slavery is a moral evil. What is questioned, however, is this: when someone in an unhappy situation says that they’re happy, how far can and should we go to help them without it becoming a violation of their consent and free will? And that’s not at all a new question in fantasy and sci-fi. Star Trek has asked it. Doctor Who has asked it. Even the Hitchhikers Guide books have asked it. 

Example: I have women relatives who truly sincerely and whole-heartedly believe that women were put on this earth to be subservient to men. They were raised to believe this and have never questioned it. If you asked them if they’re happy, they’d say yes, and tbh, I believe them: they are lucky enough that the men they’ve married are legitimately kind and loving husbands. However, I still find their situation to be morally abhorrent and I fundamentally disagree with how they view femininity and marriage. So what can I do? I’ve had arguments with them about it, and they won’t budge. I’ve tried to expose them to literature on women’s liberation and they dismiss it. In fact, it’s only made them get defensive and dig in their heels, because they resented me telling them that their worldview was an unhealthy and wrong one. Who was I, after all, to tell them that they were wrong to be happy with their lives? Am I supposed to end their marriages by force and strong-arm them into feminism, or is that in and of itself a violation of their consent and free will?

There’s no easy answers to those questions. There never has been and never will be. And I think that’s what Rowling was attempting to wrestle with. Did she do it clumsily? Yes. Should she have chosen a different metaphor other than slavery? Very probably. Is it open to criticism? Yes again. Has she written other cringe-worthily bad and ignorant things into HP? Absolutely - Cho Chang is the shining example, IMO, though there are plenty more.

However, I also think it’s extremely disingenuous to paint the house elf plotline as promoting/condoning slavery, telling people that they should be content with their lot in life, or mocking those who try to challenge the status quo. That reading of HP ignores a metric shitload of evidence to the contrary, especially in the later books. And while I love literary criticism and think there’s plenty to be criticised in the HP books, this is one of those things that I truly do believe is not only unfair, but the product of extremely selective reading.

#jkr #jk rowling #house elves #harry potter #meta

[thecandywrites]

Blood For Gold

So. I was SO INSPIRED by @kriskukko​ ‘s regency era orc art, please forgive me for taking it and putting it into the photo montage that I do for all my stories but I wanted everyone to see your amazing art and really get a visual sense of the story I want to tell. For more amazing orc and other fantasy beings in GORGEOUS period clothing- @kriskukko​ is where to go. They’re amazing. 

I’m a HUGE fan of Jane Austin in general and now with historical period dramas like Death Comes to Pemberley and Bridgerton, they need a fantasy twist with orcs, elves, trolls and of course mouras which are my own precious creation. Also because this is a fantasy period piece, I’m fudging and blurring the lines of historical accuracy just a wee bit. Regency Era- 1811-1820 ish. First Industrial Revolution- 1760-1840 and railways becoming a key transportation tool around this time as well. So we’re going with all three at the same time. 

Trains, Industrial Revolution, Regency, Nobility, Intrigue, Murder Mystery, Damsel in Distress, Mail Order Bride, Only One Bed but with a twist as Only One Train Cabin, all the clichés. ALL OF THEM. Enjoy. And I really hope @kriskukko​ enjoys this because this was written specifically for them. And it’s written as a reader insert. Hope that’s ok. If that’s annoying @kriskukko​, I can change that. Technically this will be female reader insert. 

Blood For Gold

Part 1

You were happily sitting on the train, in a private first class cabin suite, dressed in your mourning clothes, relieved that others took the hint and left you alone so you could travel in peace, reading one of your latest acquisitions from one of the more upscale and prominent bookstores in Kent since you were traveling from Kent back to London Towne. Normally you would never dream of traveling alone, but you did just give away your latest paid companion in marriage the day before to a man who would love her for the rest of her life so you found yourself feeling bittersweet at the loss of her company, both sad to lose such a close friend yet happy she would be happy. She was your third paid companion just this past year to do so. But you were far from begrudged. But now you would have to start the process all over again and have to take out an advertisement in the papers for a new paid companion and start anew. 

Then your thoughts were interrupted by the knock on the door by a station master since the train had stopped on its way into London, stopping in the industrial district. 

“Yes?” You asked as he came into your suite.   

“Begging your pardon Countess, but there are two first class gentlemen looking for a private cabin on their journey home and it’s a full train today and we’ve filled up all the other cabins, would it be a horrible inconvenience for them to share this one with you? We’d like to extend these certificates of first class cabins on future trips to you if you’d be willing to share yours with them.” He offered generously, holding them out to you hopefully. 

“Who are the gentlemen?” You asked curiously as you looked from his offering back to him. 

“Duke Damsey Voyambi and Count Javyn Jabire.” He answered. You didn’t know them personally but you knew of them. Men of both nobility and industry and supposedly of considerable wealth in this country. Although you did hear rumors of both gentlemen of being romantically attached to various debutants so you’d have to be careful to not let any rumors spring up. The last thing you needed was another scandal on your hands. 

“But of course, I would be happy to share my cabin with them.” You readily agreed before you took the ride certificates into your black laced gloved hand and put them away into your purse as the station master then happily left and returned with the gentlemen a moment later, they were exquisitely dressed but did smell like their factories, they must have been just checking in on their businesses. 

“Countess Morrigan, this is Duke Voyambi and this is Count Jabire.” The station master introduced as you stood to greet them formally. Duke Voyambi was orcish and the count was clearly troll, but you were moura, so it made little difference what they were. 

Mouras- ever since the moura plague over a hundred and fifty years ago that wiped out the heavenly moura population, leaving only the royal moura and mountain moura to live on since their own moura heritage was “diluted” by other races enough genetically to withstand the plague and live on- were now all born with golden yellow eyes, golden blonde hair and their moura collars and cloaks, instead of being actual objects containing magic and power were now reduced to looking like they were painted on the skin with gold glittering ink. It’s what made mouras stand out even more than they used to. Gone were the days of the real moura gifts but the breed’s legacy lived on. But you were of course in your mourning attire, mostly all black and covered up, the only moura trait giving you away were your gold eyes and little golden freckles on your cheeks and nose, otherwise you looked mostly human. 

“Pleasured to make your acquaintance Countess Morrigan. How do you do?” They bowed as you curtsied in kind. 

“Please, won’t you sit down gentlemen?” You invited as you gestured to the other bench before all three of you sat down again. 

“Thank you so much for having us Countess Morrigan, we’re much obliged.” Count Jabire thanked you earnestly. 

“Pleasure is all mine your graces, a journey is always more enjoyable when spent with amiable company.” You answered pleasantly. 

“So why are you travelling alone Young Countess?” Duke Voyambi asked curiously. 

“I believe you have me confused with the Young Countess Jane Morrigan, I am her late grandmother in law Audravienne Saharrazat Morrigan from Dorierra, I was married to the late Old Count Edward Morrigan.” You gently corrected, your r’s rolling while your moura accent flourished and furled with the pronunciation of your name, which both of them couldn’t help but raise their eyebrows at that revelation as they realized you were that Countess Morrigan. 

You were the reason every young man threw themselves into business if only to make enough money to afford a moura bride as beautiful and wonderful as you. To hear of the late Count Edward Morrigan’s death had many marking their calendars to mark when your mourning period would be over so they could pursue you themselves. Especially since after the death you weren’t immediately whisked away back to the moura stables of Dorierra but stayed in the country and it seemed to be in this moment that both actually took note of your mourning attire and seemed to connect the dots so to speak. 

“Oh, I do beg your pardon, again, so sorry for your loss, I believe the last time we were in the same room was actually your wedding to the Count only two years ago, forgive us for not recognizing you.” Count Jabire offered. 

“It’s alright, I did not recognize you either, that day was a bit of a blur for me and all the faces ran together having met so many people that day.” You admitted. 

Your wedding to the Count was attended by all of high society in this country, even the entire royal family attended, all of which you barely remembered because of the circumstances of your marrying the Count. It was all a blur for you and most of the first year of being married to him, you’d much prefer to forget and the circumstances of his passing had you feeling relieved you had only been married to him for a year. Much longer and it would have finished you for good. But you had settled into widowhood much easier than you had anticipated and it afforded for you to finally enjoy life again. Now that he was dead, you had a very charming and pleasant life, and one you would be loathed to lose. 

“Oh it’s perfectly alright, practically the whole country came for your wedding, it would be impossible for you to remember all of them, especially when all of them were practically strangers to you that day. And especially since you rarely come out into society since.” Duke Voyambi reasoned and all you could do was smile politely but it didn’t reach your eyes. 

Edward had been a widower, he was human and had married a human wife in his youth and used his family’s small and modest fortune and invested it into industry and investments, all of which paid off handsomely so that the Morrigans were one of the wealthiest nobles in all of England, if not most of Europe. Then Beatrice, Edward’s wife died, and in his old age, and now fully established wealth, Edward decided it was time for him to “buy” a moura bride, a tradition most kings partook in going back for a millennia since the moura stables were established specifically for that purpose. The moura estate of Doriera functioned like a racing horse stable. All brides were put on display and bought and sold or rented to the highest bidder, because since the plague, mouras were becoming even more rare and sought after and were the first to embrace the mail order bride system. Edward wanted a moura bride who was young and vibrant and entertaining to keep him company in his old age and give his last years a measure of happiness and pleasure. He had paid a fortune to the moura stable in Doriera for you since you had a pedigree that rivaled most ruling kings and gifts galore, not to mention were an outstanding beauty in your own right and Edward got what he paid for because you delivered on all accounts. 

Edward had been incredibly sweet, kind, thoughtful and generous as a husband when you first married him and treated you like the gem you were and in the beginning, you found much to appreciate and have affection for as he helped you to adjust to living in England, away from the moura stables and indulged you endlessly because he could afford to. He made sure you had a very generous allowance paid out weekly, wore splendid gowns and practically dripping in jewels at all times. You were his delight in his old age and he even had the good sense that it was all down in writing and was taken care of by his steward.

However six months into the marriage, he started to go completely senile, mistaking you for Beatrice and then getting so angry when you weren’t her and especially once the sun set every day, he became a different man, he grew incoherent, irritable and angry and even violent but then in the morning and during the day, he would come back to his senses and himself and would apologize and do everything he could to make amends and even hired special assistants to keep himself from hurting you further but even that only lasted a few months, the last three months of his life was spent having all sense leaving him and he became completely senile and deranged no matter the time of day and that’s when the abuses started happening, in his senility, he dismissed his helpers and Richard, his eldest son and heir, who was looking to save money, agreed with their dismissal, no matter your pleadings or theirs and even his steward plead with him but Richard and his family turned a blind eye to it since they viewed you as his paid caregiver and basically dumped him on you and left you all alone to deal with him and shut you and him up and away from society so they would not and could not see it for themselves while forbidding you from contacting the stables or anyone else about it to “preserve the family honor”. 

Then the “incident” happened and Edward unexpectedly passed. And it came as a relief to everyone else in the Morrigan family. Richard then fully inherited the estate and very quickly shipped you and all of your things off to live in London Towne as soon as you could be packed- to live in an exquisite and surprisingly luxurious townhouse in the fashionable side of town that was big enough to suit you just fine because you couldn’t return to the moura stables because ‘you were broken beyond repair’ by Edward’s and Richard’s treatment as judged by the stable masters who were beyond enraged at your treatment and thankfully Edward had written it into his will and specified the kind of living you would receive upon his death so that the rest of your life, until you chose to remarry someone of your choosing, would be in comfort and luxury and even accounted for inflation and unless Richard wanted to lose everything, he would be honoring his father’s wishes and pay out what you were definitely owed and had earned by enduring it, under the threat of the truth being discovered and him losing everything, including the family honor and estate and business to you, which the stable masters were more than ready and able to hire the best international lawyers who would make sure to hold the new Count Richard Morrigan to the very letter of the contract his father signed when he “bought” you from the stables which clearly stated, should you be damaged in any way, you would inherit all of Edward’s estate to “recoop” the damages inflicted on you personally which all moura contracts superseded all others in all courts worldwide. 

So that left Richard to pay for your silence and discretion on the matter, effectively doubling what his father had already set out in your material living agreement which you had the good sense to get down in writing and have the stable masters cosign it so that it accompanied the contract Edward signed which you kept a copy of in your possession and the stable masters also kept the original copy of and had it witnessed by the highest judges in the land, in private of course. Which for the price of your peace- and complete independent freedom from the Morrigan’s, you agreed to it since you could not return to the moura stables yourself. 

So you made peace with your circumstances and counted yourself fortunate to have the moura stables still backing you despite technically no longer being a part of them even though you knew that if this particular country were to ever become unsafe by either revolution or war, you were still welcome back to the stables under those conditions to simply preserve your bloodline, but little other circumstance garnered your return to them. 

Besides, you got to have the very same staff that served you at the Morrigan Estate named Broadcove follow you to your new townhouse- Mirador and they were ever so happy to follow you there because you were a good and fair mistress to them and took care of them exceedingly well and they made at least twice the money they would make at any other house and they were loyal to you to a fault. Even the steward followed you to Mirador because he knew his master had done you wrong. 

“How are you getting home to Broadcove?” Count Jabire asked curiously. 

“Oh since the Late Count Edward Morrigan passed and the New Count Richard Morrigan and his family has taken ownership of Broadcove, they thought it best I mourn in peace at a house of my own, so I have since moved to Mirador since the late Count’s passing.” You informed them. 

“Oh how kind and thoughtful of them.” Count Jabire noted and you fought not to snort a derisive laugh at that. It was never ‘thoughtful’ on their part. It was always just a business to them. 

“Yes, it’s been most helpful to me. It’s incredibly convenient to be in town and so close to so many amusements and diversions, it has helped me with my grief a great deal, especially since the living afforded to me by the late Count is generous enough for me to afford a paid companion so that I don’t get too lonely. My latest one was married only yesterday, Lady Bellum to Sir DeVaunce, you may have seen the announcement in the paper perhaps?” You readily agreed.

“Oh yes, yes of course.” Duke Voyambi readily agreed while Count Jabire nodded in agreement.  

“But now it seems I will have to take out another advertisement for another, since it’s obviously a little unseemly for a lady such as myself to travel alone, especially in this country.” You allowed as they nodded and gave each other a meaningful look. 

The rest of the ride was spent in pleasant conversation as all three of you got to become better acquainted. 

Duke Voyambi owned a soap company, making not just soap to wash the body, but laundry supplies as well which explained his own scent on his clothes smelled like he worked as a laundress. But he also employed a union of orcish workers. One of the few captains of industry that was for the union instead of against it, which you greatly respected because you could tell he was passionate about the betterment of orcs in general, from livelihood and wages, to education and living and working conditions and was incredibly safety conscious. 

Count Jabire on the other hand- he owned one of the many flour mills, using the river rushing through the feet of the bridge to run the giant wheels to make flour of various kinds. And it was why he smelled like a bakery and why the two of them together smelled- if anything- interesting. But they were clearly friends, and close ones at that and in conversation, they clearly played very well off each other and it was entertaining for you to sit and listen to them. You were almost saddened when your stop came and all three of you had to disembark. 

But at the same time, you were relieved to see Malcom, one of your manservants there to help you with your things and there with a carriage to take you home. 

“Till we see each other again gentlemen, may you both get home safely.” You offered the Duke and Count, curtseying again as they bowed and tipped their hats to you before you left to return to Mirador. 

“You have visitors waiting on you my Lady.” Malcolm informed you as he helped you into your carriage. 

“Who?” You asked. 

“Count and Countess Morrigan.” He answered before you groaned and made a whiney whimpering sound which brought a grin to Malcom’s face. 

“Why?” You asked. 

“Don’t know, but they came bearing gifts my Lady.” He answered. 

“Great, well, I suppose we shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer than they have to.” You urged him as he finished loading your things up and the driver drove the carriage home as you steeled yourself for whatever would find you once you came home. 

“Countess,” Richard and his wife Agnes greeted you as all three of you curtsied to each other respectfully. 

“Count, Countess.” You returned respectfully. 

“We trust your ride home from Kent was pleasant as always.” Richard urged with forced pleasantness. 

“It was,” you confirmed. 

“So what do I owe the pleasure of your presence your Graces?” You asked curiously. 

“Well since your mourning ends in a fortnight, we came to invite you to everything that will be happening shortly after, and since you will be out of mourning and even half mourning in a fortnight, you will need new clothes to stay with the fashions, we must get you out into society as soon as possible. Surely you long to see it and we brought all the invitations that we should all go to as a family.” Agnes insisted as cheerfully as she could muster as she presented you with a stack of invitations and you wanted to laugh scornfully in her face for her audacity. But decorum would not permit you to do so- so you simply smiled politely as you took them from her. 

“Of course.” You agreed as you started looking through them.  

“Well we must get you to the designer houses as soon as may be for they may need time to finish your gowns in time for all of these events. Take the next couple of days to rest and recoup from your journey from Kent, so on Wednesday perhaps, we should go, in the meantime, the stables have sent gifts to celebrate the event, and your servants have taken the trunks to your quarters for your inspection and we must inform you that you now have a dowry, should you chose to get remarried of fifty thousand pounds.” Agnes suggested. You were being paid thirty thousand pounds for your silence a year, since Edward afforded you fifteen thousand but Richard doubled it for your silance and discretion, but the Morrigan’s estate and business earned them hundreds of thousands of pounds a year which they were using to build an even bigger estate in the country along with a new townhouse in London that was going to rival any other as well, the new country estate was going to rival the Palace of Windsor or even Buckingham Palace. Which is how Edward could afford to give the stables two hundred a fifty thousand pounds to buy you outright from the stables but Edward, when he had not been senile insisted that you were worth every penny. But still, they always viewed you as a gold leech and they were obviously keen to get rid of you and have you ‘latch on’ to someone else. 

“Yes, Wednesday would be a good day for that, thank you.” You agreed, in a desperate attempt to get them out of your house so you wouldn’t have to put on this pretence any longer than you had to.

Mourning here lasted a year and a day for widows, the first six months were spent in deep or full mourning, where the widow would wear nothing but black, and the last six months were in half mourning where a little bit of subdued color was introduced back into the wardrobe, which seemed almost alien to you since mouras liked to dress in the brightest and most vibrant colors possible.

But you knew the sooner they could get you remarried after the mourning period- the better for them because they would no longer have to pay for your living arrangements and pay for your allowances. They were going to dump a fortune into getting your market ready and dump you on the first willing suitor who showed interest and they would try to induce you to remarry but you were determined that only the deepest and purist and most genuine love would ever induce you into matrimony now. 

If they only knew who you shared a train ride with- they would be going to the gentlemen directly to try to broker a deal behind your back as you wondered exactly what tricks they had up their sleeves to try to pawn you off. 

But you had tricks of your own. You just needed a little help...

#Blood For Gold #a story inspired by #@kriskukko #their regency and industrial revolution art #orcs #orc period drama #bridgerton #but orc and fantasy being style #it's going to be so fun!

[imagine-loki]

Hiding in Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Five AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé.

You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.

How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

RATING: General Audience

Raven could feel her heart pounding in her ears as Thor looked at her. He glanced at Loki for a moment who seemed to be studying him, curious as to why he was reacting as he was. “Looks like your soon-to-be wife isn’t the only Light Elf you need to get used to seeing.” Thor scoffed. “Like I was saying, I will deal with my situation when it comes to pass, you deal with yours now as it does.” “Get stuffed.” Loki snarled moving to the side to allow Raven passed him which she did in case Thor would say anything. “And don’t go sniffing around my maid. I don’t know why you seem so interested as you never thought them overly interesting as a race but you can cease such thoughts now.”

“I never even considered such but now that you mention it, she is quite pretty, don’t you think?” 

Loki’s response to his brother was to slam the door with his seidr into his face. He walked through the room and to the bathroom where he had watched Raven go out of the side of his eye after she had entered his rooms. “Branna, I...what in the realms are you doing?”

“Cleaning a wound I obtained when you threw an Aesir war prince onto me.”

“In my defence, I did not know you were there.” Loki winced on seeing the deep cut on her forearm. “I apologise but how is it so deep?” he walked over to one of the cabinets and got out a salve he used on occasion. “It was a smooth floor.” “The floor is gold plated, so yes, that was smooth. The armour plating on the behemoth of an Aesir you threw onto me was not.”

Loki grimaced. “I guess I owe you another apology then?”

“I’ll put it on your tab.” 

Loki paused and looked at her startled, surprised to see a playful smirk on her face that caused him to chuckle. “You have a sense of humour?” “Most elves do. You’d know that if you stopped assuming our demeanours based on some unfounded preconceived notion.”

“Your vernacular exceeds that of most women of court.”

“It is expected on Alfheim that you are able to converse with your employer on a multitude of subjects so you must be well learned and you must be able to hold a decent conversation with them. Allspeak is also required in case they have guests from the other realms, it’s common practise really.” Every word she spoke was the truth by Ljósáfar standard. 

“That’s a wise decision. Intelligent servants are not overly common here, ones you can converse with are even less so.”

“‘Pay peanuts and you get monkeys’ as the saying goes.” She cleaned the wound and applied the salve. “That looks better. Hopefully, if I ever marry, he won’t think me mutilated by it.”

Loki scoffed slightly. “He would want to have peculiar standards as to what is mutilated. But that statement on the monkeys?” “I spoke to a Vanir before who spent time on Midgard, it is a saying there. It translates to ‘if you pay badly, only the least qualified will apply’. Alfheim pays well and expects a lot for the money paid.”

“If it is so great, why come here? You stated to my mother you are homesick. You clearly are not overly pleased with your position, so why come?”

“My father wished for me to experience life elsewhere so I ended up here. My choice was made for me so I am making the best of it. It just so happened that my being in a certain place at a certain time meant I was chosen to cover for Tatiana. I guess the Allmother felt a maid with Ljósláfar training would suit you best in her stead.” Raven suggested. “Either that or she is trying to teach you humility before you break a young princess’s confidence or heart.”

“Her heart?” Loki thought that an odd thing to say. “She does not know me to have her heart broken by me?” “We can break a person’s heart without it being from love, you know?” Raven scoffed but Loki looked at her bewildered by such words. “She could come here thinking that she has the potential not even for the love of her life but of a life with happiness nonetheless. A husband that could converse with her at length about politics or even a man with hobbies similar to her own who she could find contentment with. Were she to come and see nothing short of contempt, then that would be acknowledging she could never even have that much. So many arranged marriages turn to caring but what I experienced here today, perhaps your mother wished to straighten out your behaviour in advance, the only issue being I am the one forced to endure it.”

Loki remained stoically in place for a moment thinking of what she said. “Could she have?” “Could she what?”

“My mother?”

“I cannot tell, she never told me anything only that I was to temporarily replace your other maid. No timeframe, no other information.”

“And the Princess, would she really…?” Raven cocked her head. “Earlier, you stated that she would wish to know if I had someone because she…”

“If you think that you alone have the right to other partners, then that is ridiculous.”

“But if she was to have another’s child as my wife…?”

“Well, good thing you’re not scheduled to become king.” Raven retorted before walking out of the bathing room and into the front area of Loki’s rooms and continued her earlier duties that she had abandoned in her anger. 

“That is unacceptable.” Loki followed after her. 

“So is having a mistress in this era.” Raven challenged. 

“You are very angry about a subject that does not concern you personally.” Loki folded his arms and watched her carefully. 

“I cannot stomach double standards.”

“You’re very opinionated for a woman of your position. I can’t see how many in a position of employment would see it as acceptable.”

“Do you find it acceptable?” “I find silent women unsettling. Your gender is as varied in personality as us men meaning there is no reason a woman should be forced to be silent when we commend men for speaking freely.” Loki stated. “I find my mother to be more intelligent than any man, I would be a hypocrite and a fool to think her the only possible intelligent woman.”

“My father always told me I should be more coy and quiet. That my attitude and sarcasm would get me in trouble.”

“That was solid advice.”

“But I cannot remain silent when I see injustice. I would rather be whipped and caned in a stock for speaking out than live in luxury for remaining silent.”

“That is a bold statement.” Loki could not help but be impressed by her conviction. “But if you believe so greatly in such, why did you not reveal the truth to my mother?”

“I don’t know, if I am honest. I ask myself the same thing.”

“Well, thank you all the same.” 

“It remains to be seen if that is a good idea.” She turned away from him and started to do more chores. In truth, having a moment to look at him and study features, Raven was startled at just how handsome he was. Aesir men tended to be burly and stocky but he was elegant and lithe. She had, of course, seen him on her arrival to the room but being in close proximity to him and studying him, she could not deny that he was incredibly attractive, distractingly so. 

She forced herself to concentrate on the work and not the arrogant yet handsome prince. For the rest of the evening, she did everything she needed to do for him. More than once she found herself confused as to what something in front of her was. It was not always easy but she was able to do what needed doing without looking as though she had no idea of what she was doing. Loki was busy dealing with different matters both in and out of his rooms. With him gone for the evening, Raven took her leave and went back to her rooms as quickly as she could muster through the labyrinth of servants stairs that hid in the walls of the great golden palace. On occasion, she saw another servant or maid who nodded in salute as they went about their own business and even once came across two youths of higher families hiding in an alcove kissing which caused her to smile and shake her head, remembering when she was that age and also her first kiss. It was a far more innocent time in her life when she knew nothing of the complexed world of politics that included arranged political marriages. It was in the corridor of rooms that housed royal servants that she realised that there was a maid donning a red belt standing outside her door. “Hello?” 

The maid turned to look at her with a polite smile on her face at seeing the Light Elf behind her. “Oh, thank goodness. I didn’t want to come back without you.”

“Come back?” Raven looked at the maid in concern. 

“Prince Thor asked that I retrieve you and bring you to his rooms to speak for a few moments,” The maid explained. 

“I…” Raven became worried but also knew that to refuse would arouse suspicion. “Can I just change my shoes, these ones are killing me?”

The maid looked down and grimace. “I hated wearing them. Definitely change. Prince Thor said he didn’t care if I came barefoot so long as I was comfortable when he saw me with them one day and bleeding blisters. He won’t mind.” 

Raven smiled at hearing the Aesir Crowned Prince had a heart. Odin was known to be a stickler for tradition but it was clear, some traditions were not overly comfortable for those having to adhere to them so for Thor to allow his maid to wear what appeared to be Midgardian sports shoes instead told her that he had some heart. “One moment.”

She rushed into the room and groaned. She knew what was to come, or at least, the general aspect of what was to come so she prepared herself. When she changed her shows to light comfortable ones, she walked out to meet the maid again who walked her to Thor’s rooms. Raven was frightened that they would walk through the hallway and be spotted by Loki who she knew would be less than pleased to see her going to Thor’s room but instead, when the maid, who remained silent and nameless throughout opened the door at the top of the stairwell, it led directly to Thor’s living area. Slightly startled, Raven looked around curiously. 

“Your Highness.” The maid bowed as she spoke causing Raven to focus of the burly blonde figure in front of her across the room. “Loki’s maid, as you requested.”

“Thank you, Hannah.” Thor gave a polite smile to his maid. “You can have the rest of the evening to yourself.”

The maid frowned. “But your nightcap?”

“I am forgoing it for this evening, I don’t plan to be here.”

“Of course, your highness. Have a pleasant evening and thank you.” She bowed again before nodding slightly to Raven and walking to the hidden door to the servants quarters again. 

For a moment after the maid left, Thor and Raven stood looking at one another analytically as though expecting the other to begin speaking first. 

“What is afoot here?” Thor asked. “The last time I saw the Light Elf princess was four hundred years ago on Vanaheim, she was not yet grown into many of her features but they were distinctive, you have them all, but in proportion. Her name is Raven, you are apparently Branna, the Dark Elf version of the name. I know many people think I am somewhat dim but I am anything but.” Thor stood as tall as he could. “What is afoot? Why are you, a princess who I know for a fact is not allowed to so much as sew because you had that argument with your mother in front of your brother and myself going around scrubbing my brother’s rooms when you are to marry him in a short time?”

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #wolfpawn #chapter 5 #hiding in plain sight

[somelazyassartist]

34, 35 and 40 for the world building please please please

How do people keep in contact? Do they write each other? How are messages transported? Are there communication devices?

Well, I suppose there's some form of technology since Artificiers are a thing, but they certainly aren't common, let alone anywhere near where Hallows grew up. Out of The Three Kingdoms, Maethveserine would probably have the most technologically savvy people there, but again they're VERY few and far between, and those who do train to become Artificiers usually learn their trade from somebody from the Material Plane or, in extreme cases, went to the Material Plane themselves to learn and came back to impress people with their technological prowess. But generally, people write letters to each other!! Down in the populated cities it's very common for the poorer people to have messenger animals, typically what most people would consider household pets like birds, cats, dogs, rats, ect. The practice has been going on so long that the animals have all just adapted and it takes very little training to get them to understand how to deliver messages. Richer folks in the cities are more likely to hire personal messengers though, if they can afford to, because there's much less chance of their letter getting lost or ruined on the way to its destination if a humanoid was carrying it than if an animal was. However in smaller communities like the village Hallows came from, where it's less crowded and everyone knows everyone so to speak, even letters aren't that common. They certainly can write them, sure, but when you're a community of beings that never need to sleep and you're at least acquainted with nearly everyone near you, it's usually considered much more polite to go over in person to say what you need to say to someone- in fact, writing a letter to someone may even be seen as an insult to some because it can come off as "I could be talking to you in person but I don't deem you worthy of my time" (the exception being, typically, a letter simply stating "I am busy with something important or literally cannot come over, will you please come over to where I am to talk?", which might still peeve the receiver a bit but they'd simply go over to where the sender is and talk to them in person there)

Are there domesticated house pets? What animals? How are they fed and otherwise cared for?

Yes!!! Nearly every family has at least one pet (their messenger animal), but a lot of people have more than one if they can afford to! Plus, while still on the expensive side, Bags of Tricks are fairly common and make for good pets if you know how to train the animals in them right! Hallows herself was given a rust bag of tricks by her parents when she was only six or seven (they wanted her to have some sort of companionship while she was stuck home sick all the time), which contained a rat, an owl, a mastiff, a goat, a giant goat, a giant boar, a lion, and a brown bear. Those, despite what I would assume we would typically think, are considered commonplace pets in The Three Kingdoms! The more powerful your family is the more "exotic" the family pets can get, so nobility and royalty can easily be found with Worgs, Hippogriffs, and Saber-Toothed Tigers to name a few examples! Any "real" animals will need to have food and supplies accounted for, of course, but things like familiars and Bag of Tricks animals don't need those! You can certainly buy them toys and such if you want to go the extra mile, but since familiars are made of magic and bag of tricks animals just turn into balls of fluff they don't require anything like that, only your love and care!

How do people show they love each other? Are unions like marriage common? What are weddings like?

Traditions for how people show they love each other vary drastically between class, culture, and race, so I don't think I can write it all here at once, but I'd imagine Eladrin (since they're who I write about the most) express their love pretty similarly to how other Elves do, though of course what with the Feywild's influence the feelings expressed and reciprocated are magnified exponentially (to the point where if a human tried to do the same thing in the Feywild they'd probably break down from how intense the emotions are because they hadn't evolved to handle the way the Feywild affects people's feelings like Eladrin have). Yes, I'd say that marriage is probably as common in Eladrin society as it is in Elven, though I do imagine their traditions would be different. Eladrin marriages, at least within Arran Thalas, are typically not an event where people are specifically "invited", and it's certainly not a quiet elegant affair. I tend to imagine Elven marriages being rather quiet and exclusive, with only the two (or more) people's families there to work out the joining of both their families into one and celebrate by giving each other handmade gifts to welcome each other into their homes. Whereas I imagine Eladrin marriages are very much the opposite vibe,,, it's almost always a loud celebration typically hosted either in the town square or (if the couple is extra sentimental) where the two or more getting married first met, and everyone just sorta shows up and celebrates even if they're not close to the couple at all because they consider, if only for that day, EVERYONE around them is family, and everyone should feel as happy for the newlyweds as the newlywed's parents surely do. Celebrations typically last for a full day or until everyone's tired themselves out from dancing, but it's not uncommon for the festivities to last for multiple days, or sometimes even close to a week non-stop.

#asks #worldbuilding #the three kingdoms #Hallows #hallows nightbreeze

[wolfpawn]

Hiding in Plain Sight, Chapter 5

Story Summary - Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other. How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

Chapter Summary - Loki tries to set things straight with Raven but then Thor is thrown into the mix.

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Raven could feel her heart pounding in her ears as Thor looked at her. He glanced at Loki for a moment who seemed to be studying him, curious as to why he was reacting as he was. “Looks like your soon-to-be wife isn’t the only Light Elf you need to get used to seeing.” Thor scoffed. “Like I was saying, I will deal with my situation when it comes to pass, you deal with yours now as it does.” “Get stuffed.” Loki snarled moving to the side to allow Raven passed him which she did in case Thor would say anything. “And don’t go sniffing around my maid. I don’t know why you seem so interested as you never thought them overly interesting as a race but you can cease such thoughts now.”

“I never even considered such but now that you mention it, she is quite pretty, don’t you think?” 

Loki’s response to his brother was to slam the door with his seidr into his face. He walked through the room and to the bathroom where he had watched Raven go out of the side of his eye after she had entered his rooms. “Branna, I...what in the realms are you doing?”

“Cleaning a wound I obtained when you threw an Aesir war prince onto me.”

“In my defence, I did not know you were there.” Loki winced on seeing the deep cut on her forearm. “I apologise but how is it so deep?” he walked over to one of the cabinets and got out a salve he used on occasion. “It was a smooth floor.” “The floor is gold plated, so yes, that was smooth. The armour plating on the behemoth of an Aesir you threw onto me was not.”

Loki grimaced. “I guess I owe you another apology then?”

“I’ll put it on your tab.” 

Loki paused and looked at her startled, surprised to see a playful smirk on her face that caused him to chuckle. “You have a sense of humour?” “Most elves do. You’d know that if you stopped assuming our demeanours based on some unfounded preconceived notion.”

“Your vernacular exceeds that of most women of court.”

“It is expected on Alfheim that you are able to converse with your employer on a multitude of subjects so you must be well learned and you must be able to hold a decent conversation with them. Allspeak is also required in case they have guests from the other realms, it’s common practise really.” Every word she spoke was the truth by Ljósáfar standard. 

“That’s a wise decision. Intelligent servants are not overly common here, ones you can converse with are even less so.”

“‘Pay peanuts and you get monkeys’ as the saying goes.” She cleaned the wound and applied the salve. “That looks better. Hopefully, if I ever marry, he won’t think me mutilated by it.”

Loki scoffed slightly. “He would want to have peculiar standards as to what is mutilated. But that statement on the monkeys?” “I spoke to a Vanir before who spent time on Midgard, it is a saying there. It translates to ‘if you pay badly, only the least qualified will apply’. Alfheim pays well and expects a lot for the money paid.”

“If it is so great, why come here? You stated to my mother you are homesick. You clearly are not overly pleased with your position, so why come?”

“My father wished for me to experience life elsewhere so I ended up here. My choice was made for me so I am making the best of it. It just so happened that my being in a certain place at a certain time meant I was chosen to cover for Tatiana. I guess the Allmother felt a maid with Ljósláfar training would suit you best in her stead.” Raven suggested. “Either that or she is trying to teach you humility before you break a young princess’s confidence or heart.”

“Her heart?” Loki thought that an odd thing to say. “She does not know me to have her heart broken by me?” “We can break a person’s heart without it being from love, you know?” Raven scoffed but Loki looked at her bewildered by such words. “She could come here thinking that she has the potential not even for the love of her life but of a life with happiness nonetheless. A husband that could converse with her at length about politics or even a man with hobbies similar to her own who she could find contentment with. Were she to come and see nothing short of contempt, then that would be acknowledging she could never even have that much. So many arranged marriages turn to caring but what I experienced here today, perhaps your mother wished to straighten out your behaviour in advance, the only issue being I am the one forced to endure it.”

Loki remained stoically in place for a moment thinking of what she said. “Could she have?” “Could she what?”

“My mother?”

“I cannot tell, she never told me anything only that I was to temporarily replace your other maid. No timeframe, no other information.”

“And the Princess, would she really…?” Raven cocked her head. “Earlier, you stated that she would wish to know if I had someone because she…”

“If you think that you alone have the right to other partners, then that is ridiculous.”

“But if she was to have another’s child as my wife…?”

“Well, good thing you’re not scheduled to become king.” Raven retorted before walking out of the bathing room and into the front area of Loki’s rooms and continued her earlier duties that she had abandoned in her anger. 

“That is unacceptable.” Loki followed after her. 

“So is having a mistress in this era.” Raven challenged. 

“You are very angry about a subject that does not concern you personally.” Loki folded his arms and watched her carefully. 

“I cannot stomach double standards.”

“You’re very opinionated for a woman of your position. I can’t see how many in a position of employment would see it as acceptable.”

“Do you find it acceptable?” “I find silent women unsettling. Your gender is as varied in personality as us men meaning there is no reason a woman should be forced to be silent when we commend men for speaking freely.” Loki stated. “I find my mother to be more intelligent than any man, I would be a hypocrite and a fool to think her the only possible intelligent woman.”

“My father always told me I should be more coy and quiet. That my attitude and sarcasm would get me in trouble.”

“That was solid advice.”

“But I cannot remain silent when I see injustice. I would rather be whipped and caned in a stock for speaking out than live in luxury for remaining silent.”

“That is a bold statement.” Loki could not help but be impressed by her conviction. “But if you believe so greatly in such, why did you not reveal the truth to my mother?”

“I don’t know, if I am honest. I ask myself the same thing.”

“Well, thank you all the same.” 

“It remains to be seen if that is a good idea.” She turned away from him and started to do more chores. In truth, having a moment to look at him and study features, Raven was startled at just how handsome he was. Aesir men tended to be burly and stocky but he was elegant and lithe. She had, of course, seen him on her arrival to the room but being in close proximity to him and studying him, she could not deny that he was incredibly attractive, distractingly so. 

She forced herself to concentrate on the work and not the arrogant yet handsome prince. For the rest of the evening, she did everything she needed to do for him. More than once she found herself confused as to what something in front of her was. It was not always easy but she was able to do what needed doing without looking as though she had no idea of what she was doing. Loki was busy dealing with different matters both in and out of his rooms. With him gone for the evening, Raven took her leave and went back to her rooms as quickly as she could muster through the labyrinth of servants stairs that hid in the walls of the great golden palace. On occasion, she saw another servant or maid who nodded in salute as they went about their own business and even once came across two youths of higher families hiding in an alcove kissing which caused her to smile and shake her head, remembering when she was that age and also her first kiss. It was a far more innocent time in her life when she knew nothing of the complexed world of politics that included arranged political marriages. It was in the corridor of rooms that housed royal servants that she realised that there was a maid donning a red belt standing outside her door. “Hello?” 

The maid turned to look at her with a polite smile on her face at seeing the Light Elf behind her. “Oh, thank goodness. I didn’t want to come back without you.”

“Come back?” Raven looked at the maid in concern. 

“Prince Thor asked that I retrieve you and bring you to his rooms to speak for a few moments,” The maid explained. 

“I…” Raven became worried but also knew that to refuse would arouse suspicion. “Can I just change my shoes, these ones are killing me?”

The maid looked down and grimace. “I hated wearing them. Definitely change. Prince Thor said he didn’t care if I came barefoot so long as I was comfortable when he saw me with them one day and bleeding blisters. He won’t mind.” 

Raven smiled at hearing the Aesir Crowned Prince had a heart. Odin was known to be a stickler for tradition but it was clear, some traditions were not overly comfortable for those having to adhere to them so for Thor to allow his maid to wear what appeared to be Midgardian sports shoes instead told her that he had some heart. “One moment.”

She rushed into the room and groaned. She knew what was to come, or at least, the general aspect of what was to come so she prepared herself. When she changed her shows to light comfortable ones, she walked out to meet the maid again who walked her to Thor’s rooms. Raven was frightened that they would walk through the hallway and be spotted by Loki who she knew would be less than pleased to see her going to Thor’s room but instead, when the maid, who remained silent and nameless throughout opened the door at the top of the stairwell, it led directly to Thor’s living area. Slightly startled, Raven looked around curiously. 

“Your Highness.” The maid bowed as she spoke causing Raven to focus of the burly blonde figure in front of her across the room. “Loki’s maid, as you requested.”

“Thank you, Hannah.” Thor gave a polite smile to his maid. “You can have the rest of the evening to yourself.”

The maid frowned. “But your nightcap?”

“I am forgoing it for this evening, I don’t plan to be here.”

“Of course, your highness. Have a pleasant evening and thank you.” She bowed again before nodding slightly to Raven and walking to the hidden door to the servants quarters again. 

For a moment after the maid left, Thor and Raven stood looking at one another analytically as though expecting the other to begin speaking first. 

“What is afoot here?” Thor asked. “The last time I saw the Light Elf princess was four hundred years ago on Vanaheim, she was not yet grown into many of her features but they were distinctive, you have them all, but in proportion. Her name is Raven, you are apparently Branna, the Dark Elf version of the name. I know many people think I am somewhat dim but I am anything but.” Thor stood as tall as he could. “What is afoot? Why are you, a princess who I know for a fact is not allowed to so much as sew because you had that argument with your mother in front of your brother and myself going around scrubbing my brother’s rooms when you are to marry him in a short time?”

#Loki fic #Wolfpawn #hiding in plain sight #Chapter 5

[herbgerblin]

I swear I saw a post about “what if elves have different proposal traditions?” e.g. offering a bouquet as an intention of marriage. 

But--if you’ll play with me in this space for a minute--what if that’s just a strictly Two Sunned (TS) elf thing, and not a Faerune elf thing. Faerune elves couldn’t give a shit, but TS elf care immensely. It’s an honorable and highly regarded practice, one that an elf could take up to half a century to perfect.

Okay, so consider: [insert pepe silvia meme here] 

Kravtiz shows up at Taako and Lup’s door step (like, a month or so after Story and Song) with a big assortment of flowers and Taako is like, “Oh for me, you shouldn’t have?” But on the inside he’s like, “OH FUCK!” 

But like, he knows. He KNOWS that in this universe it’s fine. It’s just a common romantic gesture. It’s not the humble yet potentially binding signifier of love that it is on their homeworld. That’s silly.

But Krav is still standing there, mildly confused as to why Taako hasn’t let him into the house yet. And Taako, mentally, is somewhere between saying yes to a proposal that wasn’t even being asked, and trying to do the math on how many flowers Krav got because, shit that is a particularly large bouquet. Did he hand pick those carnations? Meanwhile lich!Lup comes around the corner to say hey to Kravitz before her brother leaves for his date and she see the flowers and just loses

every inch of her shit.

Counterexample: Barry absentmindedly tucks a daisy in Lup’s hair once and she says, “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.” :>

#omg its 3am I'm just gonna queue it and tag later goodnight #florosal

[ambarto]

Part 2 of my thoughts on Elf marriage (part 1 is here)

I left off on the idea that an Elf marriage bond can be formed not only by sex, but also in other ways, and that sex is only the more traditional way of doing things. Now why exactly would that be the case, as opposed to other options?

One possibility, that I already talked about in my last post, is that sex is simply the easiest way. You have both the physical and emotional closeness. For a couple wanting to marry, there would surely be strong feelings involved, and there would also be a certain vulnerability, especially if it’s the first time for the people involved, and tied to that also a good level of trust in your partner. All in all, a great way for the feas to reach out to one another (as many fanfiction writers, in many fandoms through the ages, will be able to tell you). Other types of intimacy could require additional emotional effort or control over one’s fea, which could be harder to achieve for example for younger or less powerful Elves.

A second idea can be that it was simply something that... happened? And they went with it? I don’t buy the idea that Elves did not discover sex up until the day the Valar explained sexual reproduction to them, if anything because it would mean their reproductive instinct would need to be extremely low. From a very bluntly biological point of view, you can’t hope for your species to multiply if they don’t have some form of innate drive towards reproduction, and I don’t think Eru would just overlook that part. Even if the first Elves had no idea what they were doing, someone must have popped a boner at some point. It’s possible that two of those first Elves fell in love, and they had sex, and a bond formed without them really meaning to (and I like to think that the results were liked if unexpected because otherwise that would be awkward at least). Since that was how they discovered it, it also became tradition.

Then, you have symbolism. Being that Elves are Tolkien’s perfect beautiful Catholics and Elf marriage is geared towards child rearing, having the act of reproduction as the traditional way to get married is rather fitting. Most wedding traditions are full of various symbols, just to name an example, the tradition of wearing a wedding ring on your fourth finger derives from the belief that there was a vein in the ring finger that went directly to the heart. We know Elves had their own marriage ceremonies and the couple would also need to recite vows to Eru, it was possible the sex=marriage was just another symbol.

And then we have my own favorite when it comes to interpretations, which is: all of the above are to some degree true, and you also the Valar intervening.

First I need to explain that, in my headcanon, the Valar put in place a series of rules and customs that were kind of hetero/amatonormative, overall. It wasn’t done out of maliciousness, of course, and I think once enough time passed at least some of them were changed when it became clear they had fucked up a bit. It’s just that Eru hadn’t been overly specific with his Elf caresheet, and the Valar had to sort of make things up as they went. Now, the Valar are split into male and female, even if, as far as we know, they wouldn’t have had any internal concept of gender, given they were shapeshifting spirits coming from the nothingness that existed before the world. Probably they just thought the whole male/female thing so many creatures had going on must have had some sort of significance. In addition to this, I feel Valar marriage most likely also involves some form of union between their souls.

So the valar saw 1) sexual reproduction, which they clearly thought was cool, and 2) a marriage bond that could be similar to their own and had formed because of it. They could have very easily reasoned that there had to be something sacred about sex, and decided to make that a law. Given we also have the basis that Elf marriage was in strong part about child rearing, this can also explain why the wording was not exactly gay friendly.

Valar intervention also means the sex=marriage rule would have been strongly enforced in the Vanyar, Noldor and Falmari, but it could have been much more lax, if not missing entirely, among not only the Avari, but also Sindar and Nandor. Yes, Sindar and Nandor would also be counted as the Eldar, but they did not live in Valinor, and their laws could have been very different from the ones the Valar put in place. Sure, there was Melian, but Melian also married an Elf, which probably did not have Valar approval either. Maybe having sex to form the marriage bond would have still been a widespread practice, but not all that strictly followed. More of other marriage forms, or more extramarital sex, or both.

All of this can also bring up various images about culture clashes of various kind. For starters, older Elves who had awakened in Cuivienen might have remembered a time before the marriage rules were put in place, and we could have a few ancient Vanyar, Noldor or Falmari that felt the restriction was not all that necessary. Then we could have the general culture shock of the Noldor coming across the different Sindar practices. On one hand, the Sindar could probably consider Noldor kind of prudes if they were so against extramarital sex. On the other hand, you might have had Noldor who found this free love approach some Sindar had was distasteful or immoral, while others (*cough* Finrod *cough*) might have decided that hey, when in Beleriand, do as the Sindar. I feel like the second group of Noldor, the ones who liked the idea of extramarital sex, might have also been the ones who were more close to the Dwarves or the Men, given neither of them would have followed the sex=marriage custom. And thirdly, you could also wonder if and where the sex=marriage rule was kept in the later ages. For example, Imladris or Lothlorien both had a Noldor ruler, and it could be that this law was still observed in some form, although possibly not as strictly as it had been in Valinor. But in Mirkwood you had Sindar and Silvan Elves, who could have kept a more free approach to sex, given that they never had that law and likely also had no desire to conform to Noldor traditions.

#silmarillion #silm #silm meta #my meta

[blankdblank]

Ridikulus Pt 9

Barely half an hour was all it took with Molly’s help to guide it along as you kept the families distracted allowing them room to breathe and into the room crying the blonde haired baby girl with hazel eyes taking after her father’s. Victoire Belle Weasley was passed around while Fleur was given the proper potions to return to her former slender figure allowing her to stand and hurry to your side saying excitedly, “Now our daughters can grow up practically like sisters.” Stirring a grin onto your face accepting her tight hug before she made certain you were next to hold her as she said, “You would be godmother, won’t you? Oh please do?”

In a giggle you nodded saying, “If you like.”

She nodded and bounced on her feet, “I would, I insist!” making you giggle again as she said in English, “Now my girl will have the best godmother and two amazing aunties to help me mold her.” Stirring grins onto Ginny and Gabrielle’s faces.

Around you the flocking visitors ooh’ed and aww’ed over the little girl you then passed to her grandmother and you said, “Now, you need to eat so she can eat later.”

Back to the dining hall while the Dwarves stood accepting their chances in admiring Vici and congratulating her alongside the Elf Lords. At your side Vivienne eyed the guests you named starting with the Dwarves before she looked a bit more interested in the Elves. Who Ollivier was already looking over between glances at Em he had claimed drawing their eyes in return in his color changing hair trick his sons around him followed. All to give Em practice on her colors between stolen pecks and hugs for the excited girl answering where you had gotten most of your looks and shifting skills from on top of your full appeal.

The Elves all nodded their heads to their names being called and upon the titles being named they all bowed their heads and curtsied appropriately Vivienne eased to your side snaking her arm around your back and you forced a grin onto your face knowing what was coming. “It is on these occasions it makes me wonder when I would get to see our precious great granddaughter carrying another child.” In a glance at you she brushed the curls from your face behind your ear, “The perfect age for breeding,” the word made the Elves’ brows give a subtle twitch along with how clearly uncomfortable you were, “Now just to find a husband, one daughter already, plenty promising for a son to follow suit.”

In natural fashion Luna stated in a flowing tone asking, “Jaqi, wasn’t there a planned stop for you in the King’s home?”

In that a gentle nudge after a round of parting hugs and pecks on the cheek were issued to you and you were ushered to a few steps in front of the King who took your shifting gaze as a sign to bid your family farewell, all those visiting whom bowed deeply in your leaving with them. Silently you walked to the front door where you pulled on your boots and led the group outside and let out a sharp breath and Glorfindel asked lowly, “Please tell me they were joking.”

In a glance up at him you said after another quick exhale, “They have certain, expectations.”

Elrond, “Yes your father mentioned that.”

“Well, they’re, it’s hard to explain. They’re French, if you didn’t notice their accents differ from ours. They’re from France, a different country, whole other set of culture rules, and I am sorry you were being propositioned,”

Thranduil parroted back in a tone seeming more offended than confused at the notion of their possibly offering an engagement right then and there, “Propositioned?”

“It, they’re not greedy, they are a bit vain on occasion but that is just how they were brought up to be. They’re proud of their bloodlines and status in their home country, and to be honest, even the highest ranked families a girl in their line snagging a Noble with an actual title is nothing to scoff at.”

Thranduil, “You are a Queen.”

You sighed, “Of sorts, but not the sort most people would brag about.”

Arwen, “Still the title-,”

Her voice trailed off and you clarified, “The Death Eaters are murderers, torturers, kidnappers and worse. I didn’t run a country I told murderers who to kill, what lands to attack, at best I was more of a General in an army than a Queen. All of the blood but none of the frills.”

Elrond, “A Queen of our old lands would do the same. None of us I assure you would consider you any less no matter who you kept in line.”

Facing forward again you listened as Arwen asked, “Breeding age? That is how women are offered to their Ones?”

“When it comes to nobility it all comes down to continuing the family name and bloodline, namely sons. Kings more so.”

Elrond, “King Thranduil has an heir, if that would be an issue ever.”

“Yes, but in our world it is best to have an heir and at least one spare.”

Thranduil, “Surely-,”

“Women up until a couple generations back were considered little use except for marrying up or laterally to retain or gain status. If unable to bear children they would be cast aside and marriages were severed so the man could wed again with her named barren.”

Elrond, “That is absurd!”

You shrugged, “It is our past. Now we have freedoms but still, as I said, marrying up would not be a terrible thing. I am sorry, again for you’re being put on the spot like that. Please don’t hold it against them. They just want the best for me.”

Glorfindel looked you over, “How could you be so calm-?”

Turning your head you caught his eye showing the pain in yours parting his lips, “My grandfather Morfin and his family took their daughter Suzsienne,” parting their lips again. “Either by force or by enamorment from her trip to our country, a way her parents hoped would help to lure her back in a term of studies in art courses back to the family profession of performing away from her wish to start a shop of her own. She died giving birth to my Mum, nameless buried as Morfin’s Wife, no more. They spent decades searching for her and I helped them find her. I look like her, I’m talented like them. It all comes down to pain, they lost their girl when she was younger than I am now, never got to meet my Mum. So they sort of forget sometimes I’m not their daughter. Dad would never allow them to force me into anything as concrete as marriage. Just wants me to be happy.”

Legolas said knowing it would irritate his father, “Even if you would miss a chance to be betrothed to a King?”

In a giggle you replied through the clench of Thranduil’s jaw you had missed, “Titles are often more dangerous than treasure hoards. He loves Mum, anything less than my incandescent bliss is downright absurd grounds to propose at all.”

Arwen, “That is a lovely way to word it.”

You giggled again, “It’s how my Mum did, in her journals when she was at school carrying me and they were going to elope no matter what her family said, or his, she was assumed muggle born at the time.”

Thranduil, “Ah, she would have been found unworthy a match.”

“But Gran came round before she passed.”

Legolas, “Did she? That is admirable.”

You giggled again, “I was too adorable and had too much of the Black resolve to be disowned. Even as a child. And a promise the male line would not die out. My aunts Andromeda and Narcissa had children, the former disowned for her choice, Narcissa married Lucius from another Sacred 28 clan the Malfoys and obviously had Draco. At the time Bellatrix didn’t have any children, got locked up too early after her wedding.”

Lindir broke his silence asking, “Your uncle, Regulus, did not marry?”

With a grin you shook your head in a glance at him, “No, he was barely in his late teens when I came around and he spent most of his time helping to act like Remus’ boyfriend while me Harry and Neville grew up under fake names as Remus’ children to draw the eye of anyone more than a fling. Plus he traveled most of the year either way for anyone to be pleased waiting for his return.”

Arwen, “No pressure to carry on traditions?”

“I never met Grandfather, he had passed before I was born, only met Gran and she was gone when he was quite young. And the war was going on, not good footing for baby making.”

Glorfindel, “These discussions do not make you uncomfortable?”

Glancing up at him again you shook your head, “No, my life has always been an open book for the most part. Does it bother you?”

Shaking his head he replied, “No, not in the least.” Keeping eye contact for the few moments until you faced forward again.

**

In their move to the hall when they had finished eating and passed on good wishes to Fleur and Bill the Dwarves left with Fili keeping hold of Hermione’s hand to pull her with them. Allowing, once out of earshot for Thorin to look to her making her say, “They’re her great grandparents, to be quite, blunt, back home to nab a King or Lord is a good thing for a family’s reputation. There’s no shortage of families believing their daughters would be a great prize for a King.”

In that Thorin calmed, “Surely, they could see that Jaqi was uncomfortable.”

Hermione’s head tilted slightly, “They are very traditional, surely they intend to aim for what is best for her. Only, they realize that they can only offer guidance for what they might choose for her, as even us teens would have bigger sway over what she chooses along with her Dad and Regulus. Narcissa and Lucius haven’t been close long but even they would never force her into an unhappy union. Narcissa married well but she did it for love. Sirius would never allow any less, not after losing her Mum.”

Bilbo, “That is comforting.” He said settling more against Thorin’s side under his arm.

In a quick wetting of her lips she asked, “I wonder, could I ask you a question, Thorin?”

With a nod he replied, “Absolutely. Would you prefer alone?”

She shook her head, “No, merely, you have known, in the least, King Thranduil,” he gave a quick nod urging her to continue, “Even distantly, and I was wondering, he seems, him and Lord Glorfindel, rather intent on Jaqi. Her opinion, her company, you know him, she is, by their behavior being held up as a Queen, so is that Elven habit for Royalty, or, something more? She’s had a rather rough start romantically, if it’s merely curiosity or some sort of befriending out of a thought of debt-?”

Thorin inhaled curtly and cut her off, “No, truly, I do not understand exactly what Elven tradition for courtship might be, however King Thranduil as you have stated before and the Lord were frequently in Jaqi’s dreams. And knowing that it would not be impossible to conclude she is their One.”

Hermione, “The both of them?! Is that normal?”

Oin grinned saying, “My Love was gifted two Ones,”

Balin, “Our Amad as well. Quite common among Dwarves in fact.”

Hermione looked to Fili who quickly said, “Only the Dams do,” giving her hand a gentle squeeze, “You have not had dreams of another?”

Hermione shook her head, “No.” Then looked to Thorin again, “Thank you. I do apologize if it seems-,”

Dwalin spoke shaking his head, “Not at all. You are merely defending your sister, we all understand that. Elves are strange to say the least. No matter how rough they might travel round the bend to get to the point we trust neither would dare insult the Lass’ reputation or harm her feelings.”

Hermione shifted on her feet, “Well, I should let you get going. Another meeting of the Wizengamot over the new laws, fun.” Making the Dwarves smirk in her shift to plant a quick peck on Fili’s cheek and release her hand to step away.

Thorin cleared his throat at an elbow bump from Dwalin, “Miss Granger, I wonder,” she paused and turned to face him with brows curiously raised, “As a member of the new council for your kin we were hoping a fuller list of requirements for those wishing to adopt, from your, orphans.” The final word biting at him and those around him.

Hermione glanced to Dwalin, “Is this about Lulu?” Dwalin gave a quick hopeful nod, “Oh if that is the case you don’t need to worry. We’ve already drafted the papers for you to foster her.”

Dwalin softly repeated, “Foster..”

Hermione, “Please don’t take the term to heart, but we’ve adjusted the process, the system would take six months of fostering and then adoption papers could be drafted. We have agreed all of us you are a more than suitable parent, and have backdated it to when you first took her care. It is merely a term there is no risk of her being taken from you.” Stirring a misty eyed grin onto his face, “It is merely paperwork, though if more Dwarves wished to act as foster parents then we would have interviews for them, of course it would be a matter of, bonding for the children. We wouldn’t force them into uncomfortable situations. The Elves also have asked of the process, mainly for the babies, but there are a great deal of older children left over..”

Balin, “Well that wouldn’t matter, any bairn is a blessing. I am certain were the Elves to claim all the babes our kin would wholly welcome their elders.”

Thorin, “I was wondering, Jaqi, is not included in your meetings.”

Hermione shook her head, “No, she turned down a spot on it, sure like Dumbledore she’s granted honorary status, as sort of tie breaker votes, thought she felt it best she enforce the laws, not write them. Did not want anyone to say that we could be swayed by her, not that she wouldn’t sway us to reason, I think she’s merely tired of all the nonsense the Ministry put her through. Might change her mind later.”

Thorin lowly asked, “So she would hold no sway in housing the orphans?”

Hermione, “She was written as their godmother, all of them,” parting their lips, “We documented all of it, all their parents brought their papers and files and family albums and even for a few shrunken family homes and property including memories of their families. Lulu included. She might not have say over the laws pertaining to adoption but she has final say in relinquishing custody.” She looked to Dwalin, “Part of how we’ve agreed to settle on approving the future adoption. Even without being part of our council she will always hold a huge weight on how this generation shapes itself to be. To right it, all of it, don’t be afraid she’s out of the loop, but it’s best to have a neutral council and a neutral Minister to enforce them.” After a quick pause she added, “I will let you back to your plans.”

Thorin, “We might be inviting our kin by the end of the week, a celebratory dinner would be called for.”

Hermione giggled softly, “Sounds like fun.” Turning to stroll off while Balin leaned in to give Dwalin a subtle half hug stroking his back in his wiping his cheek at a long withheld tear at the confirmation that Lulu was going to legally be his soon.”

Balin, “Roughly five months brother, if that, and surely we could add her to our records even before the contracts are drawn up. Surely they would not separate you when she has done all to accommodate your link to Lulu.” Another pat later and he said, “Let us go and work more on her nursery, hmm?” Dwalin nodded and Thorin glanced to Fili patting his back to guide him along to fixing up his own apartment Fili and Kili would be sharing until Hermione and him would reach the dwelling portion of their courtship through which Kili would be acting as their chaperone until their final months before marriage.

**

Back to your loaned apartment you were left with Arwen. Who helped you to change into the simple bound top similar to a halter top. She paused in eyeing the tattoos across your back and sides added to the duckling on your arm making her say in helping you into a pair of thick bikini bottoms coated in thick overlapping ruffles you assumed to be for modesty, “Your marking of the duckling, it is quite beautiful, for a tribe of murderers.”

With a giggle you replied, “I changed the mark to a duckling after arriving here. I wanted us to change what we stood for. Sever ties from Riddle.”

“What was it before?” Curious of what symbol could be tied to the Dark Wizards.

“A snake slithering out of a skull.”

“Ah. I prefer your choice.” Making you chuckle to yourself under your breath.

Over your shoulders she helped you to add the robe and her eyes hovered over the scar on your belly making you glance down and say, “From my surrogacy.” Her eyes met yours and you smirked saying, “It’s complicated. I was pregnant, in a way.”

“One day I hope to be in your circle of trust to learn the tale.”

In a giggle you replied as she secured the tie on the robe, “I doubt I could explain it for you to appreciate my choice without teaching you about a few of our more rare creatures.”

“I would enjoy learning about your world immensely.” She said turning to guide you to the door.

Peering up at her you asked, “Are all Elves over six feet tall?”

Widely grinning at you she answered, “Elves and most races of Men, yes. I am a bit short due to Ada being half mortal.”

“I must be considered travel sized then.” Making her chuckle again guiding you out into the hall to the shared public bathhouse where you paused asking, “They won’t use anything lavender, will they?”

“Lavendar?”

You nodded, “I start to sneeze and swell up. Back home a friend sent me a lavender lotion, I puffed up like a raspberry and my throat nearly swelled shut before Remus got the right potion for me. I have a weekly supplement for protection for passing by it but to have to soak in it or rubbed on me it won’t work.”

“Ah, I will speak with the healers, the bath is first, no lavender involved. As I am aware normally petals are used in some oils for the sleep treatments.” Through the door you spied the Lords in the bath you passed flashing you quick grins before she left you to the watch of a Healer who helped you out of your robe and joined you into the tub in her silk slip where she led you to the bench in the middle.

The odd herbs were being added by a servant while the Healer moved behind you with a bowl in hand she filled then carefully began to pour the mixture across your shoulders. Across the room behind another set of screens Arwen hushedly informed the Healers in charge of the later forms of treatments of your reaction to lavender making their mouths drop open before they hurried to gather all the lavender they had shoved in a bag they sent away with another servant. Through the screen in Elvish Elrond clarified what he had heard and Thranduil began to mentally trace where all the lavender was in his kingdom to prevent you any harm.

Back to the side of the tub Arwen went in time to see the Healer saying something in Elvish making you look at Arwen in her translating, “She is wishing for you to tilt your head back.”

Timidly you did and closed your eyes for the Elleth to pour more across your face, from that your head straightened again at Arwen’s warning then you were asked to stand and join the Healer out to the next section over where the Elf Lords had taken the larger tables and had begun to lay down. The elders watched your frozen stance staring at the table the Healer had led you to making their and her lips part seeing your hair ripple to pitch black and your eyes clamping shut as you forced yourself forward to the table you climbed up onto to lay face down.

Behind you in Arwen’s stepping away Thranduil stated with a towel draped across his chest stating, “This is Iris, one of our healers, she is here to help relax you.”

Beside the table you eyed the vials and she spoke up to clarify she could speak your language, “We have removed all oils including lavender.”

Wetting your lips you laid your arms flat by your sides in her easing a towel over your hips causing you to draw in a deep breath. Looking you over her eyes focused on the tensing of your shoulders, “Thank you.” The flinch in her move to undo the tie across your back parted the lips of the men watching your clear trouble simply laying on the table. In a tear easing out across the bridge of your nose almost making them take you out of the room they heard you mumble, “Sorry.” Your eyes opened and landed on the concerned bunch and you clarified, “Last time I was on a table it wasn’t pleasant. Just a bad memory.”

Another exhale later their concern for your comfort eased in Iris’ smoothing oils over her palms that lowered to your back timidly. Glancing at the men again you heard Thranduil stating, “Hopefully that memory will ease with continued sessions.”

You raised a brow while Iris stole a glance at the moving tattoo on your arm and the dog on the base of your neck sitting still with the stars giving a slight shimmer over a few small scattered tattoos around your sides and back. “I’m fine.”

Their brows rose again and you sighed relaxing into the table some more trying to ignore the chilling effect from one oil to the warming effect of another. Relaxed at your ease Iris’ grin eased back, still releasing deep breaths at the pain she still felt swirling inside you even with your mental wall locked up to keep the painful memories to yourself. Each press and swish of oil coated brush stroke lulled you farther from the irritations of the morning while a slightly dazed expression slid onto Iris’ face at the faint shimmer your skin was giving off that was beginning to draw the eye of others.

Turning over when your top was secured again a second towel was added over your chest and a the now trio of Healers moved in to work on you from head to toe massaging and coating you in herbs, creams and oils. The one at your feet paying special care for your heavily bruised toes and heels that had them wondering how you had been walking at all with injuries like that.

The bruises easily faded calming the now reclined Lords being coated in soaked leaves you were then coated in. Three more treatments came before the final rinse came and then you were changed again and in good need of a nap the Lords gladly sent you back to your gifted apartment to nap at their insistence to let you rest away from your plotting family. Though while you rested the same question of their being propositioned, in your terms for betrothal to you had them stunned to near silence wondering if the union could truly have been settled so rapidly and possibly met with such welcome from your extended kin.

@himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator​, @sweeticedtea​, @ggbbhehe4455​, @thegreyberet​, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb, @jogregor​, @armitageadoration​, @fizzyxcustard​, @here2have-fun​, @lilith15000​, @marvels-ghost​, @catthefearless​, @imjusthereforthereads​, @c-s-stars​, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​

@long-cosmos-overhead​, @partoftheminfamily​, @alishlieb​

Pt 10

#HP Crossover #Glorfindel x Reader OC

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

There is something people can’t talk about regarding the Dalish

So let me talk about something, and I don't know how to preface it so let me just come right out and say it.

I feel like there's this unspoken rule that the Dalish can't be criticized, and there also seems to be this unwillingness to ascribe negative traits to their culture that we would otherwise assume of other cultures, fictional or real.

I say this because I *feel* it. I feel as though I can't write anything critical of Dalish without people assuming that I'm somehow an imperialist or something, that I'm badmouthing an indigenous group because *that's just what's been done*.

Let me try to explain.

So we have the Dalish, a group of people whose plights and history can be equated to that of the Jews (rumors of blood libel and child sacrifice, forced conversion, their brethren being sequestered in ghettos in the cities, frequent victims of attempted annihilation, scapegoats for mishaps that happen in human villages and such); indigenous peoples (living in non-urban societies that worship polytheistic deities, the original backstory prior to the revelation in Trespasser aligns with slow erosion of their culture through human settlements and disease, victims of attempted annihilation, considered barbaric for their rustic lifestyles); and Romani/Sinti (nomadic, located on the outskirts of established societies, also victims of scapegoating). 

Okay, we got that out of the way. We have that established.

But can we also be completely honest with ourselves and say that the Dalish are NOT a monolithic group of people but also have cultural variations? The only things that tie them together is the fact that they are elves that worship Elvhen gods, they wear vallaslin, and they are nomadic. That's basically it. That's all we really know about them from that. Beyond that, the canon, the creative minds behind Dragon Age, and the offical outside sources like art books, novels, and comics clearly establish that there are differences in dialect, relationship with humans, their views of magic, and even their views of sexuality.

That last one is what I want to talk about most.

This is a game series that has been a refuge for non-straight people. The universe is accepting of LGBTQA people in a way that few other game franchises, if at all, have. I get that. I understand wanting to preserve this great source of representation and acceptance that runs through the game's universe. There is also the turning of stereotypical fantastical racism on its head. The parallel between the treatment of the Dalish and indigenous peoples is great politics. I love learning about it. I love talking about it in the context of the story and as a reflection of real-world history, but...

What I'm trying to get this conversation to point to, really, is the fact that I see that people are unwilling to entertain the idea that some Dalish clans may not in fact, gasp, be necessarily LGBTQA-friendly, but more specifically, Lesbian-Gay-Asexual*-friendly.

It seems to be a kneejerk reaction to assume that a marginalized group will accept another marginalized group, and there's somewhat of a real-life precedent for it, given that gender roles were less strict in certain native tribes than in Europe, what with two-spirits and similar concepts. Now that is very valid, and there may indeed be Dalish tribes that believe in that sort of thing...

When the controversial user FenxShiral was still on here, he answered questions about language and Dalish culture. These were all his headcanons, and some of the ones where he offered his opinion on how the Dalish viewed certain sexualities drew the ire of some members of the Dragon Age community.

If I remember correctly, he said that not all clans accept homosexuality, and asexuality is also considered odd. People thought he was being homophobic and acephobic.

But here's the deal, and let me try to expand upon this without sounding too ADD.

-- If we go all the way back to the Old Testament of the Bible, there is a lot of talk of who can't sleep with whom and how you can sleep with this person and why you can't masturbate and all that. Now think of the context: These are tribes emerging to carve out a stable civilization. Death is commonplace. Famine, drought, war, and disease is commonplace. Infant mortality is high, on average. Grown adults die off easily. For the sake of the tribe or clan surviving, babies need to be made and be made regularly. Let's ignore the institution of marriage for a moment because that's about property and assuring a family line is kept intact...there is no room for gay people who are unwilling to make babies in this society. There is no room for asexuals* who do not want to have sex or have children. There is no room for people who do not want to do what's "best for the community" and give up their personal happiness for the sake of the tribe or clan. That is the fact of the matter.

A lot of LGBT activism and thought intersects with individuality and personal autonomy. "I am LGBTQA. What I do sexually is my business. I owe nothing to no one else." This is a very MODERN way of thinking, this idea that you should make yourself happy and that people should leave alone what does not affect them.  Tribes and small-knit communities are not very individualistic by nature because they require full participation and equal amounts of sacrifice from everyone in order to keep the wheel turning, to keep the clan alive. These are societies that do not have an excessive amount of people that could do with 10% of women not getting pregnant or a few men choosing not to impregnate people. They can’t survive a major upset that could suddenly wipe out half their tribe and have one in five be unwilling to help resupply people.

As for the argument of "Well, what if they are gay and are willing to get someone pregnant/become pregnant, but still want a same-sex lover?" I would say that religion could likely come into play. Either the society will say "okay, I'll allow that cuz kids are getting made and that’s what I’m asking for" OR they'll say "doesn't matter, sex is for procreation only". 

But going back to the Dalish and homosexuality. We have no proof that all Dalish are LGBT friendly. In fact, I would argue that it is the direct result of the small number of them that AT LEAST SOME CLANS would be less inclined to allow clan members to remain exclusively in same-sex relationships because it would mean fewer Dalish children are being made. That's going to be two women not carrying children and two men not impregnating. The Dalish are always struggling to keep their numbers up. On the one hand, the cities are dens of disease and violence, on the other hand, the Dalish have to contend with the elements, wild animals, and the wrath of local lords and peasants who want to run them off their camping grounds. Then there are those who wish to leave for the cities, or who fall in love with city folk. It is implied that certain tribes consider clanmates who match up with humans or non-Dalish to be "half-breeds" of a sort, "traitors" to their People, and it varies as to whether children of this union will be accepted by their Dalish family (as far as I know, this contrasts with the typical custom of North American native tribes who would readily accept mixed race children into their tribes).

The Dalish love children because children are great, yes, but also because they are a living future legacy. Someone who refuses to impregnate/get pregnant is not acting with the future survival of the clan in mind. Same thing with someone who is gay and does not want to carry a child or help conceive one. Now there may perhaps be a window open for the gay uncle or aunt to help rear children, but the Dalish obviously have developed a culture that values lots of kids because it is an unmistakable sign that their customs and traditions will carry on into the future.

So I guess what I'm trying to get at here is that not just the fact that the Dalish may be less tolerant of gays than you want to believe, but that being against homosexuality may not have anything to do with reasons like "gay sex is eww" or one's faith but that it could come from a utilitarian or pragmatic standpoint, cultural or existential or what-have-you. It's the same reason why the Tevinter Imperium is "anti-gay". It has nothing to do with the fact that homosexuality is bad, necessarily, because like in Greece and Rome there were context-heavy situations where it was allowed and tolerated, but because being exclusively homosexual and refusing to even pretend to "marry the girl" and have a kid jeopardizes this particular society's eugenic-based infrastructure: The upper class NEED to breed with each other to have perfect mages that will breed with other perfect mages to have more perfect mage children. This maintains the status quo and the hierarchy. As an Altus you can have a boytoy elf slave, you can probably even canoodle with a man of a lower class because you have that social superiority, but you cannot canoodle with another Altus because it's distracting both of you from your duty of siring children.

Now I’ll bet I’ll get people coming out of the woodwork accusing me of trying to justify homophobia or acephobia, but I’m not. I’m Bi and I guess a bit Asexual. I’m trying to explain why it is not homophobic or acephobic to entertain the idea that some Dalish clans may be more leery of gay or asexual* clan members. Again, the Dalish are not a monolithic group. They are a bunch of different elf family groups that have rejected the Chantry and human civilization. Beyond that and a few cultural staples, they operate fairly independent of each other and developed their own way of maintaining their autonomy and existence.

It is like how anti-capitalists are also not a monolithic group. The only thing they share among them is their rejection of capitalism and perhaps even share reasons why they hate it. Beyond that, the proposed alternatives vary widely from socialism to anarchy. 

*  Specifically, those who are sex-repulsed/disinterested

#dalish #dragon age: origins #DA2 #DA:I #tevinter

[bitter-sweet-farmgirl]

An Analyzation of ADM (Parts 22-26)

The analyzation of Estel during her stubborn streak.  *Note:  Read Afrân first

An Analyzation of A Deep Misunderstanding (Parts 22-26)

In Ashfâkh, Estel suddenly developed this deepset insecurity that I didn't even realize she had until she just pulled it out of nowhere.  So teaching moment here for me, I realized I do not have any semblance of control over my characters whatsoever.  Once you create them and set them on the page, they're going to do any damn thing they please.  

Anyways, I had this chapter all planned out--Estel would be a bit flustered, but ultimately say yes and everything was going to be all fluffy and happy.  But when I was writing it, that was not the way it went.  Estel really just got distant on me, and kinda shrunk away from the thought of marriage.  Honestly, I couldn't understand why until I kept writing and brought Balin in to try and sort things out.  That's when she revealed that she felt insecure about marriage because of what she had witnessed from her foster mother.  

She mentions her insecurity indirectly at first, and only thinks about it in her mind, but then goes on to state it aloud.

"What if we just don't work out together?  Right now it might seem as if we are perfect together, but what if a few years down the road, we find that maybe we just don't fit as well as we thought?  What will we do then?  Split apart and carry the weight of the heartbreak for the rest of our lives?  It is just wiser to wait."  --This is her indirect thoughts on the insecurity, basing off the fact that her foster mother was (and still is) deeply in love with her husband, but then left because of personal reasons (maybe they didn't fit as well as thought, as Estel mentions?)  She also talks about the heartbreak that one would have to carry for the rest of their lifetime, something that brings to mind a past scene in ADM.  

'...blue eyes that sparkled with a merriment that still couldn't quite conceal the pain she hid inside.'  This is a quote from Iktibith E when Estel thinks back to her foster mother.  Ironically, it ties back into Ashfâkh, because Estel talks about the pain of heartbreak.  

The next paragraph is Estel's personal thought on the matter--the insecurity.

'I did not want to end up like my Naneth; forced to leave her husband and endure that heartbreak because he wasn't the man she thought he was.'  Estel has watched her foster mother struggle with her heartbreak her entire life, and unbeknownst to her (and me) it made a huge impression on her.  While she is willing to love, marriage is something frightening to her in a way, because she doesn't want to have her heart broken.  

Her next sentence states exactly that.  "Elves only love once, but my Naneth and her husband split apart because their differences...  I don't want to end up like her."  Here she lays it all out in the open to Thorin and Balin, making known her insecurity.  

From this moment onwards, even though the insecurity seems to be resolved when Thorin reassures her, writing Estel was an uphill battle.  Looking back on it now while writing this little essay, I'm realizing that her insecurity was more complicated than I thought.  While she was nervous about having her heart broken and having to endure what her foster mother endured, she also worried about Thorin being disappointed with her because she didn't know Dwarvish traditions.  That probably was the main part of it, I realize, with her heartbreak worries being a sort of top layer.

Anyways, in Afrân, that insecurity was still very much present and she just did not want to work past it.  Honestly, after writing Ashfâkh, I found writing ADM super hard.  So I just pushed it aside and took a break from writing, figuring that eventually I'd figure out a way to resolve Estel's insecurity.  During that break, I took awhile to kinda think about Estel and try and reason with her about that insecurity, but she was having none of it.  Through that experience I learned that she had a stubborn streak to rival Thorin's.  

But anyways, one night I was just doing something random, not even thinking about ADM and it was like this lightbulb just went off in my head.  Estel had finally overcome her insecurity.  The solution was just so simple, but apparently Estel just needed some time to herself to think and such, and now that we're on speaking terms again, I'm not complaining.  

'If he was just as unprepared as I was, then he was probably just as nervous.  He was most likely forgetting the fact that I was still learning Dwarvish customs and therefore would be thinking that I would be offended by the lack of tradition.'  --The exact moment where Estel's insecurity is resolved.

So Afrân was finally finished up and I could continue working on the next part.  

After that, I was curious to see how this insecurity came about, because when I thought about it, Estel had slowly become a little distant even before Thorin asked her to marry him.  It was almost as if there was a chasm slowly widening between me and her as time went on.  So I dove into the past chapters of ADM to try and see if I could figure out where Estel had began to draw away from me.  

It actually was easy to find, since I had already been thinking about the 'mood' of past chapters and had noted that Id-Thurkhu had been rather strange to write since Estel was uncharacteristically grumpy and moody in it--something that just set off alarm bells in my head.

Since I knew that she was a bit 'off' in that chapter, I went to Jalaibsêk Abâkât to see if I could find anything there.  

And boy, did I...  

Reading through it and getting to the part where Thorin sees Estel's tattoo for the first time, I came across an interesting sentence: 'His words had resurrected the memory of why I had gotten the tattoo; of the time when I struggled to find out just who I was.'  

Right there I knew I had found where everything had begun.  That exact sentence is where Estel began to grow away from me and become stubborn and moody.  Unintentionally, I had brought up a painful memory for her about a time that I think a lot of people have experienced--not knowing where you belong and struggling to figure out who you are.

From there I just read back through the following chapters, and everything just made so much more sense.  And honestly, in the week I spent trying to reason with Estel, (I swear, it was like I had a toddler that didn't want to listen.  That is exactly what I felt like with Estel!!!  I was also very tempted just to sit her down and talk sense into her through a one-on-one conversation, (like a texting fanfic) but I figured that might make things worse so...).  And I learned so much about writing in general.  Like the fact that I actually don't control my characters.  

#essay #estel #a deep misunderstanding #yes this is a fricking essay about my character

[echo-bleu]

Clubbing (in the library)

This is a gift for @nearly-conscious (who I can’t see to tag) for their birthday. Their prompt was Hermione/Padma, crushing over common interests.

I haven't written in this fandom since I was seventeen, and I'm not a big shipper, but it was a lot of fun to write. I hope you like it!

Happy Birthday! :)

Title: Clubbing (in the library)

Fandom: Harry Potter

Words: 2178

Summary: “I thought you would be there.” “Where else would I be?” Padma shrugs. It's nine-thirty, and all the other students have already left the building for the night, but Padma likes nothing more than having the library for herself. “I don't know,” Hermione smirks. “Clubbing?” “Yeah, that sounds like me."

Relationships: Hermione Granger/Padma Patil

Also on AO3 and FFnet.

--

“I thought you would be there.”

Padma looks up from her homework. Hermione drops into the chair next to her, her book bag making a thud as it hits the floor. She's wearing jeans and a comfortable sweater rather than robes, and she looks vaguely tired, like she just spent the whole day studying. It's probably the case, Padma reflect. Mid-terms are just around the corner, and trying to complete two completely different degrees must be exhausting.

It came as a surprise to almost no-one when Hermione, once her NEWTs over, couldn't choose between the high level Muggle university course she was offered and magical studies. The Wizarding university, to which Padma now also belongs, is small and less structured than its Muggle counterparts, so it's fairly easy for Hermione to follow all her courses without needing a Time Turner, but it's still at least twice the workload.

“Where else would I be?” Padma shrugs. It's nine-thirty, and all the other students have already left the building for the night, but Padma likes nothing more than having the library for herself.

“I don't know,” Hermione smirks. “Clubbing?”

“Yeah, that sounds like me,” Padma groans.

Over the years of being the two most bookish students of their year at Hogwarts, they've become casual friends, although Hermione always had too much of an exclusive relationship with Harry and Ron to be close to anyone else. Padma, after her twin sister started to become interested in very little else than boys, make-up and Divination, spent most of her time in the Library, usually on her own. Oh, she was never friendless and she still has frequent contact with all the Ravenclaws and most of the Hufflepuffs of her year and the year above, but she hasn't had a best friend since Parvati stopped filling the role. She loves her sister, but they're not confidants anymore.

But since the day she and Hermione first put foot in the university building four months ago and recognized that they didn't know anyone but each other, they've gotten closer. They usually study together in the evening, for one thing. Hermione doesn't have a boyfriend to go home to since she and Ron split up on the first day of term−something about different plans for the future−and Padma has no particular wish to step back into the drama that is her parent's house too quickly, most nights.

“Can I join you?”

“In what, my very energetic clubbing? Sure,” Padma smiles.

“Thanks. Midterms are coming way to fast. All this studying is going to kill me.”

“You love it. Admit it.”

Hermione blinks Padma with a very endearing look of naked surprise. The banter is coming almost naturally, but it's something they've never done before.

“Not at two in the morning on a Sunday,” Hermione answers. “Otherwise...okay. I do. It's just so interesting!”

“Our courses or the Muggles ones?”

“Both! The history of the Wizarding World is fascinating, but it's incredible how much social theory we're just missing out on. The Muggles have studied it all! Race, gender, oppression, intersection, it's all right there and we just ignore it.”

Padma shrugs. “Does it make them better?”

“Yes! No! Uh−” Hermione blushes. Padma laughs. She loves to see Hermione flustered.

“Yes or no?” she pushes.

“It's complicated!” Hermione exclaims, apparently out of words. “Some things are better, like, you know, slavery is outlawed in the Muggle world.”

“We don't keep slaves,” Padma frowns, her thoughts going straight to her ancestors enslaved by the East India Company. She's learned that history early on, the one she's never going to be taught about in college. The English wizards and Muggles working side by side to colonize India and abuse its inhabitants.

“What about the Elves?”

“They're not slaves!”

“Aren't they?”

Padma comes up with a vague memory of Hermione's fifth year crusade to free the House Elves. It seemed like madness, at the time.

“They don't get paid,” Hermione continues. “They punish themselves for things so mundane as being late or failing a task!”

Padma tilts her head. “Okay, you're right, they don't get paid. But where did you read that Elves punish themselves?”

“I saw them do it! The Malfoys'−” Hermione stops herself. “Never mind.”

“My parents' Elves are treated like they're part of the family,” Padma says. “They would never accept any money, but they have a day off a week, and they seem happy with their situation.”

“I guess I haven't seen many elves, and maybe they didn't have good masters. The Hogwarts Elves seem happy too. But still, masters. Coming from a Muggle background, it's...very odd. Outdated, I guess.”

“I never thought of them as slaves,” Padma says.

“That's what I mean when I say we need to bridge the gap between the Muggles and our world. They have so much to teach us, if only we were willing to listen. And we could bring them a lot, even without going into magic.”

She launches into a tirade of all that the magical community could do for Muggles, which seems to include, in no distinguishable order, better garbage disposal, gay marriage rights, library index cards and a non-capitalist economy. Padma is lost in the references to Muggle law and technology within the first minute, but she nods in all the right places, admiring Hermione's enthusiasm. This girl could change the world, she thinks.

It's funny, because it could be argued that she already has. But looking at her, it seems obvious that Hermione's prime was not the year she spent on the run under a tent with her two best friends, or the spells she threw at Death Eaters during the battle of Hogwarts. Her prime will be in many years, when she accomplishes all she strives for and cuts the ribbon in front of a brand new school for Muggle and Magical studies. Padma can see it in her mind's eye, a strangely attractive older Hermione with a pair of scissors in hand, a wide smile on her face, waving at her.

Why is she imagining herself looking back and laughing in pride, two steps behind among the school's new teachers?

“Do you have books that need to stay here?” she asks suddenly, taking advantage of Hermione needing to breathe between two rapid-fire sentences.

Hermione opens her mouth, frowns, and closes it again. She looks down at the pile of books peeking out of her bag. “No, they're already checked out,” she says. “I did that before coming to find you.”

“Good,” Padma says. “'Cause I want to get out of here.”

Hermione deflates. “Alright,” she says. “The Library's about to close anyway. I...I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

Padma stares at her for a second, agape at the misunderstanding. “No, I mean we should get out of here together,” she says. “To...somewhere else.”

She hasn't thought this through. She can't invite Hermione home, not with her parents there and her younger siblings−Parvati is probably spending the night at Lavender's again. She curses that family tradition forbids her from getting her own place. It's not that her parents lack the money, but a young woman living on her own is just not done.

“Clubbing?” Hermione offers with a smile, looking relieved.

Padma snorts. “Clubbing sounds right,” she says.

“I do have an apartment,” Hermione hesitates. “If you wanted to−”

“Are you inviting me to your place?”

Hermione bites her lip. “Sure. It's not big, but it's quiet.”

“Sounds good. Let's go.”

Padma is very curious about Hermione's apartment. She follows her friend outside the library to the Apparition point, where Hermione offers her arm.

“I can give you coordinates if you prefer,” she says, “but I'm pretty good at Side-Along.”

Padma smiles. Since nearly all adult wizards and witches have their own license, Side-Along Apparition is considered quite intimate, unless you do it with children. She could be reading this wrong, because Hermione isn't very easy to read on the best day, but she's now fairly sure the hints she's been dropping have been received loud and clear.

Hermione's grin when Padma takes her arm is like a confirmation. The trip is nearly instantaneous, from London to Oxford, and smoother than most Side-Along Padma has been on as a child.

They land into the entrance corridor of a one-room apartment. It's warm and cozy in a bookworm kind of way, one wall lined with a giant bookshelf and another with a large desk. The sofa bed is swarming with pillows and comforters, looking more like a nest than a bed. It looks exactly like Hermione, and Padma is impressed that she's managed to create that feeling in just four months.

“It's nice,” she says. “I like what you've done with it. I could live here.”

Hermione blushes again. “It's comfortable,” she says.

She kicks off her shoes and drops onto the nest-bed, so Padma imitates her. She stays far enough to give Hermione some personal space, hoping secretly that that space will shrink as they get comfortable. It doesn't have to be tonight, she promises herself. But then, sitting on her friend's bed at ten in the evening on a weekday, the opportunity seems perfect.

“How is it going on the Muggle side?” she asks. “We're close to campus, right?”

“Yes. The university is very old, older than ours. It's weird to have to hide when I'm doing magic, but it's been fine so far.”

“And the studies?”

“I'm missing a lot of Muggle references and stuff that Muggles learn in school. I'm doing my best to catch up but...for once I'm not at the top of my class.”

“What? Hermione, a mediocre student?” Padma asks in mock-shock.

“Most of the students here were the best of their year in high school too. That or they come from old money.”

“So you've finally met your match.”

Hermione laughs. “Something like that. So, why choose History and Anthropology? I can't imagine that's what your parents wanted for you.”

“No. They wanted me to become a doctor, or at least some kind of well-paid job with a high social standing. But Parvati threw them off even further by going into an Apprenticeship with a seer, so I got off easily. The way they figure it, I'll marry straight out of university and stop working to raise kids. They don't see what kind of worthy job I could do with those subjects.”

“My parents don't really understand magic at all,” Hermione says, “so they were relieved when I chose to pursue a Muggle degree as well. Relieved enough that they didn't care what subject it was in.”

“But why did you choose it?”

“Hey, I asked you first!”

“Okay. So, Binns was horrible, but I like learning about history. I'd bring library books to his classes and read them under the table.”

“Me too!” Hermione exclaims. “But who didn't?”

“Anyone who wasn't in Ravenclaw beside you?” Padma jokes.

“Um, I guess I wasn't really aware of other people,” Hermione admits sheepishly. “I'm a real dork, aren't I?”

“A very adorable one,” Padma says without thinking. She didn't mean to say it out loud, but Hermione blushes in the most delicious way.

“Anyway,” Padma continues, “I think...I've always been in between two cultures. I was born here, but my parents never even learned English. They just use translation spells whenever they need to, but mostly they only have Indian friends. Home is like...like we were in India, but in downtown London. You look out the windows, London. You look inside, Mumbai. I had an Indian tutor and an Indian maid and I played with Indian kids. Sometimes it feels like I'm not English at all.”

“So you wanted to learn more about English history?”

“That, and I'm fascinated by how different cultures see the world in a whole other way. We're all human, and yet−”

“I know! I felt like such an outsider when I first came to Hogwarts. Wizards have this whole culture and traditions that no one ever tells us about! We have to figure it out on our own, and honestly I'm surprised there aren't more Muggleborn students who drop out. It's so confusing!”

“Do you still feel like an outsider now?”

“No. Not much, anyway. I still miss things, but I've grown with magic in my life for years now, and I've read everything I can on Wizarding culture. Now I want to branch out.”

“Into Muggle culture?”

“Yes, because it's what I was born to and that's where I feel out of place now. But also other magical cultures. You know, different countries, people, species even…

“Maybe we could go together to Mumbai some day. I could show you some things.”

Hermione smiles. “Maybe we could,” she says slowly, biting her lip nervously.

Padma can't take any more hesitation. She bends closer and kisses her. It's sweet, though awkward and uncertain.

“That okay?” she asks, pulling away slightly to look at Hermione's reaction.

“Yeah, it's okay,” Hermione nods. “Very okay.”

“Should we do it again?”

Hermione doesn't answer and just pulls her closer.

#harry potter fanfiction #hermione granger #padma patil #hermione/padma #clubbing (in the library)