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velteris · 3 months

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I’ve seen a fair amount of posts complaining about this arc in Frieren and… we are all entitled to our own opinions etc which is why I will be launching into a Defense of Frieren’s Exam Arc :) Keeping it manga spoiler free since it seems like most of these complaints are from anime-only viewers.

For me the main draw of this arc is the world building. We’ve spent all this time with Frieren and Fern as our main perspectives on magic. Because it’s Frieren, the magics we’ve been hearing about have mostly been a little silly and sweet. But now we’re finding out that 1) “mage” is largely still a combat designation, and 2) Frieren and Fern are actually incredibly jack-of-all-trades when it comes to their magic repertoire. The “magic is visualisation” part is starting to be really leant into and we’re seeing more humans as well who seem to specialise in one magic (steel flowers, rocks, clones, ice and water…) It’s cool!! It’s objectively cool! I love being able to see this range that we wouldn’t have had otherwise! Also it’s fucking fantastic to see how much of a BEAST Fern really is when compared to other human mages. And she doesn’t even seem that aware of it.

Coupled with that is being able to see different people’s philosophies toward magic. I think a lot of viewers are kind of down about the sudden huge influx of side characters who they don’t really care about. But these philosophies—Land’s maximum wait-and-watch, Wirbel and Ubel’s vastly different approaches to killing—keep expanding the world and highlighting Frieren and Fern’s own perspectives. It’s soooo good seeing them react to situations not of their own making and people not of their own kind.

We get to see human society that isn’t a village in the middle of nowhere! We get to see Frieren being forced to socialise! We get to see Fern away from her emotional support elf! We get to see how society has changed since the demon king was defeated! I love that Himmel and co ushered in an era of peace, which it is, and yet the world is still full of conflicts. Truly the story continues after the hero is finished.

To address a few specific complaints I’ve seen brought up:

Frieren isn’t about all these nonstop shounen fights.

Agreed! Which is why it’s cool as hell that Frieren’s main badass shounen strategy is “sit very still for 10 hours”. That aside? There actually hasn’t been much actual fighting. You could probably count up the minutes in which actual spells are being cast and it’ll be something like 2 minutes max in the latest ep20. And that’s because it’s not about who beats who, it’s about the philosophies, the worldbuilding, the ways of thinking about magic. This is not a power-measuring contest, much as Genau would like to make it. And the random lucky draw-ness of the Stilles only plays further into that. It is possible to pass this exam without coming into conflict with others, and certainly without battles to the death. It hasn’t ever been about the shounen fights.

The good part of the show was about the delicate melancholy and that’s totally missing here.

I agree that it’s one of the strong points. But the thing with the melancholy is that it only works when juxtaposed against other moments. A story that’s composed of a bunch of unlinked wistful slice-of-life episodes will eventually fall apart because it has no momentum, no driving force. And ten years to Ende is too long to go without at least some conflict. Also, again, ten-hour bird meditation session?

Anyway, there’s melancholy, but how sad it would be if there was nothing but introspection and wistfulness. Frieren is bringing the memories of Himmel forward with her into the future. That means she has to be moving forward, forging new relationships with unrelated people, going into situations that she hasn’t been in before. A Frieren stuck in the past would be against the themes of the show, of remembering and yet moving on.

Why should I care about them spending ages trying to catch a bird?

You don’t like Stille? 🐤 fweet?

Actually I care lots about this funky thing. Indestructible and goes supersonic fast. That’s fucking hilarious. Bird that simply cannot be contained. Genau is a dick for setting up this kind of exam when, Your Honour, my client Stille does not deserve to be imprisoned.

Too many irrelevant side characters who it’s hard to care about, and they’re gonna be thrown away at the end anyway.

Again, it’s the worldbuilding. And also, mild spoilers for stuff that won’t be covered in the anime, but at least one of these side characters does come back and we get more delicious main character development as a result. Though frankly many of these characters are deeply compelling and interesting to me so I don’t rly get this complaint. Give me more Lawine.

Where’s Himmel? What do these exams have to do with the hero party? Frieren is good because of the links to the past.

Frieren is good because of the links to the past, which affect how Frieren responds to the present. The whole point of Frieren is that Frieren’s life continues. And through her new experiences, she comes to understand and reconnect to the emotions she didn’t realise she felt about her past. I don’t care what Himmel would think of the mage exams, I care what Frieren thinks of them now. And the answer is that she doesn’t really give a damn but she’s in here anyway because Fern strongarmed her into it, and then she was forced to adopt two more kids along the way, and all of that is something she never would have done if she was still hermiting in the Central Lands. Somehow we are still getting Himmel flashbacks anyway? So? He’s still haunting the narrative guys. Just because Frieren isn’t saying “that’s what Hero Himmel would do” out loud in these circumstances doesn’t mean his ghost isn’t here.

Even so, Frieren clearly recognises the name Serie. Do not fear. There is going to be more about links to the past.

I miss Stark.

Fair enough. It’s okay, he’s just on vacation rn. Having an appy juice.

It’s taking too long. The arc is too slow.

It’s only been three episodes… I’ve seen people going “it’s already been three episodes!” but what? Really? Is that considered an excessive amount of time now?? Given the amount of story covered I think it’s quite reasonable? There’s still 8 episodes to go in which we cover the remaining exam stages. Have some patience like Frieren. The payoffs are being set up; they’ll resolve before the end of the mage exam arc. In the meantime, let’s enjoy theorising about the soft magic system and hollering for full auto Fern.

#frieren #sousou no frieren

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redgoldsparks · 6 months

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I recently had the opportunity to attend a screening of the documentary No Straight Lines: The Rise of Queer Comics (in which I have a 30 second cameo appearance) hosted by my friend and fellow cartoonist Shay Mirk. They made this wonderful interactive zine for the attendees to fill out as we watched the film. Because I've seen the film twice before, I spent a lot of the time really going all out in my zine-doodling. I'm really happy with the result! Transcript below the cut. The all-caps writing is Shay and the mixed lower case writing is mine.

instagram / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my book / redbubble

Page 1 (cover): I watched the movie No Straight Lines: The Rise of Queer Comics and all I got was this silly zine!

Page 2: If I started a queer comix magazine, it would be called: GENDER QUEER: PAST PRESENT AND FUTURE

Page 3: Portrait of me as an underground comix artist in the 1970s (portrait of Maia looking like an Oscar Wilde flower child)

Page 4: Quotes I loved from the movie:

"I didn't know who would read this weird book." -Alison Bechdel

"I felt so embraced by the queer comics community." -Rupert Kinnard

"A lesser man would need a hammer." -Scott (Rupert's partner)

"Queer comics have created space for complexity." -Ajuan Mance

Page 5: One thing I learned:

"The movie is just as good the 3rd time!" -Maia

Page 6: My gender identity is (check all that apply):

_ Blob

_ Frog

_ Unknowable cloud of darkness

_ (fill in your own): Glam, gay, space, wizard, elf! (Drawing of Maia in a rainbow wizard hat, starry vest, knee length pants, striped socks, pointed purple shoes and waist length cape)

Page 7: Here is a gift I would like to give Alison Bechdel: The ability to teleport (this is also the gift I want so I can live rurally but visit my friends!) (Drawing of the planet earth with teleportation lines crisscrossing it)

Page 8: No one knows what LGBTQIA actually stands for... (fill in your own):

Let's

Back

Queer Utopia Land

In our

Amazing spaceship!

(Drawing of a cute spaceship in a sky full of stars)

#zine #no straight lines #queer comics #maia kobabe #queer comics history

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tallymonster · 6 months

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Memories of Us

Chapter 1 (you are here!) || Masterlist

So, I like many others had seen this gorgeous fan art by @cheesy-cryptid and I was utterly hypnotized by it. I couldn't stop thinking about it and from that constant thought growing came my silly fic.

This has been a labor of love for the last month. I'm still working on it and so far I have about 10 parts 🙃 depending on the feedback is how quickly I'm going to be posting since it's still a work in progress. I want to thank my best friend and my main support for this @micropoe10 ❤️ without her I wouldn't have pushed myself to even post this, so thanks boo 😘

This is also my first long fic, so please be gentle 🥺

Summary: Octavia is a new assistant at the Baldur's Gate Museum of History, her new boss is elusive and mysterious. Good thing his right hand man, Gale, is there to help her out for the first few weeks.

Tags: Nothing too bad for the first few parts, fluff, establishing storyline mostly, generational lineage mentioned.

Chapter 1

Never Caught My Breath

The day Octavia was incredibly nervous about had arrived. After her graduation (which seemed like a lifetime ago), endless stack of paperwork and at least 3 different interviews; Octavia made it to the Baldur's Gate Museum of History, the end of her long and difficult studies.

Here, she would start as the new assistant curator. What's strange though, is that after the last interview she thought she'd get to meet her boss, but it was his main assistant, Gale.

"I must apologize", he begins, "but our lead is currently out of the office for another week, maybe two, so I must conduct the final round, I hope you understand."

Strange, but not unheard of. The majority of the work would be with Gale directly, but it was at the least, the most basic courtesy for her boss to introduce himself by this point.

As she walks into the museum, relics from the past line the cabinets; old armor and gloves from heroes of legends from long ago, tons of jewelry and books, rare spell scrolls, and most prized of all, paintings recovered from the fall of the Szarr Manor prominently hung on the walls. Their subjects long gone, they now serve to be viewed by those who would be their victims under different circumstances.

Octavia stops at one of the many paintings of a pale elf, his silver hair in perfect tendrils, piercing red eyes glare back at her and she feels a slight shudder run down her spine, it was probably just a little bit of nerves. Still, she couldn't help but notice that same subject surrounding her in other works. If not as the main feature, but in the background of at least a dozen. Who was this person? She drifts off in thought.

"Miss Octavia? Hello? Can you hear me?" Snapping back from the daydream, she sees Gale standing beside her. His positive attitude ever present, notebook in hand he greets her with a small wave. "Lots to do this morning! We got a delivery of religious artifacts from a Sharran temple in the Underdark that was previously thought to be lost." His eyes glimmer with excitement.

"We're looking at at least a day to see what was delivered, another to catalog it all, and then, my favorite part, writing the plaques for all of it." He chuckles "Altogether at least a month of work, maybe two if there's a particular item that's more mysterious than the others." He finishes his explanation with a tilt of his head.

Octavia nods, her mind still on the portrait, "Quick question, Gale? Do you know who that subject is? They're featured in a lot of the paintings, but there's no information about them?" He glances up, "Well, we've done some research into the subjects of all the paintings, luckily we've put some names to faces..." He trails off, brows furrowing slightly at the face staring at them both "that particular subject, though, unfortunately not."

He turns wearing a wistful smile "I do wish to put a name to that face, and I intend to, but our wonderful curator often reminds me that not every mystery has to be solved." He scoffs with a grin and shrugs "Of course he would, he loves to give me a hard time about my dedication to the museum, you'd think he would appreciate the tireless research but to each their own."

Octavia relaxes a bit and ask "Have you known each other long? I mean, since he's been gone this whole time I haven't gotten to meet him yet. Is he....nice?" She says the last word quietly, almost a whisper.

Gale picks up on the anxious question and lowers his notebook, his eyes softened as he leans in, "There's nothing to be nervous about with him, he's much more bark than bite, as they say. He's really wonderful once you get to know him. Just a little rough around the edges...you know these eccentrics..they're all so guarded but deep down, they're just like us regular boring people."

He grins in assurance and goes back to his notebook, "Before I forget, said eccentric has reached back out to me and he'll be returning tomorrow evening! He'd like to make your acquaintance as soon as possible and apologize for his absence." Oh, shit. "Wonderful!" She does an okay job at hiding the crack in her voice, she clears throat, grimaces a bit and adjusts the badge clipped to her smock. "When and where?"

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #long fic #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion bg3 #fic: memories of us

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figscigfigs · 1 month

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my favorite moments from episode 11 of fantasy high junior year!!:

“is that’s a problem”

“riz? do you need to go to the eye doctor????”

finally addressing all the angry npcs

“even you fabian”

the identity spell giving SQ meeting gnosis

“should we go start minor disturbances around school and see if we get beat up?”

adaine’s classic scooter

aelwyn and adaine being sisters!!!!!

“tell kristen not to come back, the children were very rowdy after she left”

fig invading ruben’s dreams as kelpflower corncob (rad as hell)

gertie x kristen!!!! (honeybees?? maybe)

devil’s honey is so fucking rad

“my friends no longer want to see me naked” “i do”

all the parents!!!!

telemaine’s elf racism was silly but also made me a lil upset (“was that supposed to be my name?” “no i was doing a different word”)

GILEAR!!!! MY CHOSEN ONE HAS RETURNED!!!!(“this may tickle you to watch my life become suddenly amazing against my will”)

fig and hallariel continue to bring me joy (“hey! it’s me! from the phone!”)

“how did she bring winter??” “how did she bring winter???” “how did she bring winter??”

“we really gotta talk up bee girl”

fig and sandra lynn’s conversation got to me truly (i need sklonda and sandra lynn to start a support group for mothers parenting children working for the applebees student presidential campaign mpcwaspc for short)

fabian and gorgug arguing over who’s carrying the gravestone and “the ball do you wanna-“ “too small”

princess nara (i love her im sorry she’s too real)

in fact all the kristen/nara/tracker energy was absolutely perfect for lesbian exes (“WORLDSTAR”)

ALL OF SECRET SYLVAN (i genuinely shed tears cried bc they all love each other so much)

things about adine: 1. blonde 2. wizard 3. elven oracle

riz/murph immediately taking charge and running secret sylvan is so deeply in character

(attempted tearing noises)

“stop showing hole and make ‘em!”

and as we all know the last 20 minutes were the most insane thing that’s ever happened to me but god fig watching the illusion of herself she conjured morph into her dad and get fucking impaled by the armor that he wore to save her from her own illusion not even a year ago is devastating.

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themadlu · 29 days

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A Simple Thing – Pt. 2

Astarion doesn't know how to navigate love, not when it's so real and alive. His fears are still clawing at him, and he still doesn't understand fully why Zélie chose him.

Luckily, she is set on making her sassy elf understand she isn't going anywhere without him. And what better place for starcrossed lovers to tend to each other, than a warm bath?

TW: nudity, mentions of sex. This one is mostly angsty fluff.

WC: ~4.4K

Read Part 1 here!

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird (thanks for beta reading!), @amywritesthings

In his frantic state, it takes a beat too long for Astarion to realise that the tremors have rippled from his hands to his arms and jaw. Long enough that even Zélie, imperceptive as she is to such inconsequential little things, has noticed them.

(He’ll never get used to seeing her worrying about him. To how utterly confusing it is, her accepting him so wholly, so completely, that the very sight of his distress pains her. He doesn’t have the strength to hate her for making him so reliant on her, not anymore. The spite that made him what he is cowers like a rabid dog when she’s close, and she is always close, in his mind if not in reality.)

Zélie lets out an exhale, looking briefly at the ceiling before training her eyes on his. Centuries worth of insecurities are on full display in his red irises, and it is all her fault—she ripped his practised masks off him, mercilessly, one by one, to unearth the corpse that lay underneath.

You should have known better, silly love.

Her pale eyes are assessing him, studying every inch of his face and body. She must have found what she was looking for because he recognises that unexpected, precious softness in them, wider, kinder, welcoming him in.

(They used to be so inscrutable at first.)

Astarion’s pointy ears perk up in attention when Zélie suddenly speaks. “Come with me,” she says, then she…winks before turning her back to him.

What the hells is that?!

They have lived and fought (and slept) together, first side by side, then in each other’s arms, and this is the first time in all their travels that his ever-serious woman winks. Children do that in secret mocking; harlots do that to attract customers—he knows because he often did so himself.

He didn’t even think her face could do that. It makes her look young (Or just her age, he never knows with humans), free, happy even, and he can’t do anything else but stare and vow silently that she will stay free and content. He’ll do anything in his power to make it so.

“Come where?” he questions, but he doesn’t really care, not as long as she wants him with her.

A hand lifts in front of his face, so close he smells the dirt on it before seeing it and his nose wrinkles in horror. “Astarion? Come with me? Please.” Zélie is half facing him and Astarion finally takes notice that her whole little body is covered in something that smells foul. Disgusting. He can barely perceive the crisp scent he craves underneath all…that.

“What in the bloody hells is that, darling?! Did you fall into a pile of manure, perchance?”

Zélie’s forehead creases in the way it does when her patience is being stretched thin. He is proud to say he’s almost always the cause of it. He likes to think that he impacts her almost as much as she does him.

Deep down he knows he does, because she wouldn't be here with him now otherwise. She’d be with someone actually worthy of her, like generous, brave, perfect Wyll.

(That first jealousy has been smothered, but the damning embers remain.)

“Come where, he says? Oh, you know, I was thinking of going to one of those wine tasting events we saw in town the other day. Enjoy an elegant evening together as we sip on a delicious burgundy, discussing the current socio-economic woes of the city with its upper class. They would be ecstatic to reveal any valuable information to this,” she gesticulates at her mud-soaked clothes before tiredness deflates her a bit.

“I have heard sewer essence is the latest perfume craze in Baldur’s Gate lately,” her lips curve upward in a barely-there smile. “Though now that I think about it, it’s best if you keep your distance until I properly wash. I don’t even want to think about what deadly diseases I am exposed to right now.”

Astarion catches her outstretched hand before she can retract it. She’ll vanish if he doesn’t tether himself to her. He intertwines his fingers with hers, so that his ivory skin turns murky brown. Like hers.

“So I was right, love. You did fall into a pile of manure.”

His little saviour’s hand immediately relaxes in his (Another major source of pride, that he can elicit this response from her.), as he slowly, gently, brings it to his lips to press featherlight kisses on her abused knuckles. Gods, he’ll force her into an armour tomorrow. Gloves, at the very least.

(Maybe he’ll tie her to the bed, safe and warm and out of harm’s way, as he’s threatened to do before.)

“More like a whole river of it,” she confesses. “And mud. It appears that mephits and bhaalists have no hygiene standards.”

The elf grinds his teeth, fangs pricking his lower lip. What a complete disregard for his feelings, to put herself at risk, the very being that gave him life anew. In his irritation, he cannot stop himself from pulling her body against his to ask the question burning on his tongue.

“I wouldn’t know, darling. I was not allowed the pleasure to witness it with my own eyes,” his accusation borders on a whine. “How considerate of you, to leave me here in a clean bed while good old Gale is considered capable enough to offer his explosive services.”

The mocking tone is not enough to hide the fear in his voice.

(“Pathetic, prattling child. What a useless thing you are.”)

“Why did you leave me here?” he whispers it, but it sounds as threatening and desperate as the prayer of a convict seconds from execution.

“Because you looked tired.”

Simple. Straight to the point as always.

“Because I—what?” Astarion blinks at her as if she grew a second head. Him, tired? He is a newly freed vampire, he does not get tired. “I thought we discussed how I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions!”

Zélie straightens her posture, sighing in affectionate irritation. “Yes, Astarion, tired. Fatigued. Wary. Whichever term you prefer. I noticed you’ve been down, since…well, since all that happened with that twat.”

Astarion’s anxiety eases at the way his precious hero refuses to name Cazador. His captor is dust and she established firmly that complete oblivion will be the punishment for his crimes, for what he did to so many souls (What he did to him. She damns his master so, because of her love for him.) The elf is dazed by her unyielding devotion and the warmth spreading from her calloused hand into every part of him.

“Darling, I don’t know what you mean. I feel splendid! I’m free, finally, truly free. Thanks to you. With you!” He laughs in incredulity at the thought. “Only a couple of world-ending obstacles between us and the forever we deserve.”

Melancholy flashes through Zélie’s eyes. There won’t be a forever for them, not since she convinced him to renounce the Ascension. Even then, he knows she would have denied his offer of immortality. Astarion tenses, balling his free hand in a fist. Stubborn woman, refusing to understand. He will not lose her; he found her after centuries of unheard prayers, and he will not let something as trivial as mortality take her away from him.

(He will prove her wrong, this once. All the sacrifices they’ve made are worth nothing less than eternity.)

Zélie pulls him from his thoughts, shuffling a little on her feet with uncharacteristic shyness. “I was also afraid.” She confesses it as if it were a dirty secret, but Astarion is unsure why. If she fears something, that’s all the more reason to take him with her (As if his devotion alone could shield her from all harm.)

“After what happened at the mansion,” that. He remembers bits and pieces of his kidnapping, Petras’s sneers and Aurelia’s apologies, the darkness, being trapped and bruised and left naked in the kennels before—

A slave. Weak.

It makes sense, in hindsight, for her not to want—need—his protection in battle after what she saw. “Ah. My sweet, I—”

“I thought I lost you,” the words are barely voiced, but they ring like thunder in the vampire’s ears. “That can’t happen, you see. Astarion, I know it goes against what I’ve been taught and I know I am not one to show my feelings, and that is a strength until it becomes a weakness, especially with you. Because it appears I haven’t been clear enough: I don’t want to put you in danger anymore than necessary. Not now, nor after we’ll be done with all this bother.” She points at her temple while holding his gaze to ensure he understands.

He does and he does not.

Because he felt the same the closer they got to the city—his nice, simple plan falling apart spectacularly, backfiring even, as the dread of seeing his Zélie at Cazador’s mercy settled around him like grave chill.

(It’s too soon to realise it, but Astarion would take being under his master again over seeing his hero hurt. And now he knows she feels the same way about him, a cadaver.)

Astarion starts trembling again from joy, fear, relief and something he learnt to recognise as unbridled devotion for the creature in front of him. Zélie has no chance to react, not when his roguish reflexes have been boosted by days of actual rest (And by her own blood.) His lips crash into hers, fangs clashing on smaller teeth, the kiss of an inexperienced schoolboy, but he’s decided that the small space between them is more punishment than being buried alive.

“Oh, Astarion! The sewers,” he doesn’t care, not when she is here with him, safe and alive, not when he can smell her under all that mud.

I missed you, he thinks, half-mad with quelled worry.

“Don’t you dare leave me behind again, you utter moron,” he rasps between kisses.

Zélie lets out an entertained breath and nips at his upper lip lovingly before rubbing her bumpy nose against his. Astarion doesn’t pretend to breathe when he is with her anymore, not since she’s grown so stupidly comfortable with his vampiric nature, but the subtle affection radiating from her is so encompassing that his dead lungs expand in an involuntary gulp of air.

“Understood. Come then, sassy elf,” she murmurs. “I am in desperate need of a bath and now you are too,” she swipes at the mud on his face. His brave woman gently pulls him towards the wooden bathtub in the corner of the large room. “The others will come here soon after finishing their supper and there will be a…well, a bloodbath to decide who takes a bath first.”

Gods, what a terrible pun, as always. What a beautifully crooked smile at her own joke, as always.

The sight makes the elf giggle with wonder before he can stop himself.

(Once, Shadowheart dared to point out that Astarion and Zélie have a similar sense of humour. What nonsense. As if the Sharran knew what humour even is.)

“Astarion?” Zélie’s voice snaps him from his musings. The bath is filled with steaming water and her skin’s flushed with the heat under all that dirt. She looks at him, waits for him to decide what he wants to (He’d have to be fully dead not to join her.) He commits the sight before him to eternal memory, in the scraps of his soul that belong to her now.

“Oh, you need to feed as well. It’s already been a couple days.”

I still can’t believe you are real. Mine. All mine.

“Come here, darling. Let me wash you first, gods know you need it,” he says in half-mocking. His solemn lover steps closer, trusting him always, and he unbuttons her blouse and trousers first, then takes off her smallclothes, all thoroughly soaked with disgusting mud. She stands naked before him as if it were the most normal thing in the world, to be bare in close quarters with a vampire.

(Home. She feels like home. She is safe with him.)

Only the light specks of pink on her cheeks betrays her, a telltale sign this unguarded version of her is only for him. It makes him want to fall to his knees in prayer and shake her for naivety at the same time.

The warmth of her body leaves him as she walks to the bath and submerges herself. By the time he gathers himself on a stool near her, the water is already murky brown. Ugh. He has never seen that much dirt on her, not even in the wilds of the Grove. “Stay still darling and let me turn you back into a human,” he coos, soap in hand, leathering her shoulders, arms, breasts, every part of the person he cherishes most of all.

Bruises appear as the mud is scrubbed away. A large, purple patch on the right side of her ribcage, a smaller one on her clavicle. Anxiety bubbles up again and he has to say something (To prattle.) or else he’ll go insane. “Are you telling me that the others went straight to dinner looking like oversized dungs, my sweet?” Zélie almost chokes on a scandalised laugh, sending him a chastising glare. “I am the only ‘breathing dung’ here, thank you very much. They were not as unlucky, so they won’t empty the tavern with their stench.”

But of course they weren’t. I’ll drain them dry, balance the scales.

Tiredness seeps off his brave leader and Astarion is still astounded at how easily she lets him take her worries away, if just for a moment. Only he can do that, with the smallest of things: a quip, a laugh, an innocent touch, just by being himself, whatever that means. She sees him like he matters (He does, to her.) and he will do anything not to lose that. He’s the strongest and weakest he’s ever been.

A newly-clean, calloused finger softly traces his cheekbone. “Where are you, Astarion? Would you rather wait for me outside?”

No!

“No! No, my love. I am exactly where I want to be.” He tries to be suave, but comes off as pathetic, like a babe who won’t leave his mother’s shadow.

Zélie’s stare hardens. “Stop that,” his face fits perfectly in her small hands, reverent touches that make him exhale a rough breath. “You are the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever met. You will drive me to an early death with stress, but!” She interrupts him as he is about to protest, overt displays of emotion rare and difficult to articulate for her. “I wouldn’t change it for anything else. You are loved. You are you. And you will see your own, infinite worth one day. How was it? Cross my heart and hope to—uhmp!.”

His body moves before his mind fully processes her words. No one has ever had a kind word for him, and here this impossible creature stands, worshipping him, a corpse, a whore, and she must know how he will not have her mention her death, not even in jest, because it won’t happen, he won’t let it and he’s kissing her, hard, and he won’t lose her now she finally found him—

He falls in the bathtub, entangled with his lover and laughing like a madman. “Astarion! Ouh, what are you doing?! Your clothes!”

“I honestly couldn’t care less, darling,” he croaks. Astarion is soaked in disgusting water, his camp clothes are ruined, Zélie’s already messy hair is a sopping mess and the oils he poured in the tub are not enough to disguise the sewer smell. He’s so, so, so utterly content. He commits all the minute details of it to memory. The more he knows her, the more he loves her, the more she chases his nightmares away; one day, his reveries will consist entirely of her. Them.

“All right, all right, you mad elf, let me at least change the water before we both die of some horrid infection,” Zélie concedes in half-mock exasperation. He grins like a child, toothy, fangs on display. Ridiculous, but he doesn’t care. “Vampire, darling. Infections are a thing of the past.”

She looks at him still sitting in the receding water as if he were the most precious thing she ever saw. “Good for you. Alas,” she pulls at her round ears. “Human. Let’s not test my luck, mhm?” He giggles like a fool while pouring oils in the freshly drawn bath.

His darling woman shifts closer, warm and intoxicating. “May I?” She points at his clothes. Astarion’s lips part in pleased surprise. She wouldn’t touch him at all if she could help the first few tendays, and even after things changed between them she’s still been hesitant. It annoys him and endears him to no end. “You can keep them on if you prefer, of course.”

“No, love. I’d much rather you freed me of these yourself,” he whispers, leaning into her before settling back in an alluring pose that worked oh-so-well with his targets. She just rolls her eyes, but the tinge of pink dust on her cheeks is back in full-force when she starts undoing his shirt’s buttons.

Impossible woman, do you not know what you do to me?

Slowly, one by one, the buttons are freed, her fingers leaving scorching little touches on his skin. He wants to burn for her. Shirt discarded on the floor, she unlaces breeches that have gone uncomfortably tight at this point, and Astarion lets out a relieved moan once his erection is freed. He pays it no mind; she’s looking at him, all of him, and she’s made him come accidentally with less before, but she is exhausted and bruised, and unlike those useless companions they have, he wants her to fucking rest. To make himself useful without expecting anything in return.

(She gave him everything already.)

“Come here, oh!” Zélie starts to speak, but Astarion takes her by the waist so her back is against his chest and she’s is his arms. He is sure she can feel how hard he is and he knows what it does to her, ears red from an adorable mixture of embarrassment and desire. It doesn’t matter, because the second he starts massaging her scalp with oils, she melts into him so perfectly they must have been the same being once, when life was new. There was no other explanation to the certainty of belonging in his chest. “You know, I may get used to this,” she murmurs as she twists her face up to stare at him.

I hope you do, is what he thinks.

He wouldn’t mind doing this for the rest of time. “Ugh, we’ll see if the cuddly mood strikes me again, darling,” is what he says. He’s never felt safer than when she’s with him, but true vulnerability will take time to build. And patience. She has enough of the latter, and he will take care of the former. He takes her chin in his hand, brushing his thumb against her wet cheekbone. “It’s nice to see it’s really you, my dear, under all that filth.” The pale elf is almost done cleaning his lover and is thinking of a way to keep her there with him (She is always so awfully practical, even baths follow a military regimen.), when she turns to face him, straddling his legs.

Unpleasant memories shadow his mind for a moment, before she lifts his chin with her index finger, forcing him to look at her. Astarion realises she is keeping away from his sensitive areas, sitting towards his knees, soap in hand. “My turn, if I may?” Oh. She wants to help him bathe, too. He is still not used to Zélie asking for permission to a spawn as thoroughly used as him, but he lets his face fall into the crook of her neck to hide the blush on his cheeks (He can’t hide how much harder her consideration makes him.) “All yours, love,” he mumbles, meaning it. It’s her fingers in his curls now, tugging gently to undo stubborn knots, and he has to remind himself that this is real, she is real, not a figment of a slave-addled mind. He gasps softly and swells when his hero takes the tip of his ears between her index and thumb, down to his earlobes before stopping at his neck.

“Love, ask if you can touch me again and I swear I’ll go insane,” Astarion pants in her neck. “I want you to touch me.”

Only you.

Zélie huffs, “Message received.” She places her palms on his neck, his back, and the world spins when she massages the wretched bite mark and cuts that mar it. Astarion tenses, he can’t help it, but if anyone can give new meaning to those scars, it is his little saviour. He inhales her scent to relax, the crispness of her skin and the sweetness of her blood peeking through the layers of soap and oils. He adores her natural smell, more so than her blood, delectable as it is. His sanguine taste is a collateral of his unwanted condition, something he had no say nor choice in. Her scent, he is sure, he would have loved as a mortal elf–it’s fresh, subtle, sensible. It’s her, and he smiles widely when he detects a note of rosemary and bergamot in it, just as he delights in smelling her on his own skin. All his. All hers. A claim, as obvious as the fang marks on her neck.

He must have left one too many kisses on the healed wound, because Zélie puts her lips to his ear, “If you’re hungry, you can eat.” Astarion is always hungry, another shackle that will come back full force once the tadpoles are removed, but he is starving for her. Zélie hates being bitten (Silly woman, terrified of needles and in love with a vampire.) It makes her blood even more of a gift.

“Really, darling? Here?” he asks to distract her, and bites her. “Ouch! You annoying elf!” She whisper-shouts while he traces wide circles in her back to help her relax. Astarion decides that if this is the only heaven he’ll ever know, the gods can rot for all he cares. He has all he wants.

When he is done, he licks every single drop of blood and rinses the wound with clean water. “There. All better.” Zélie is still in his lap, and she bumps her nose against his lightly, affectionately. The bath is cooling now. “Thank you, Zelie.”

She raises her eyebrows in question. “Oh? What have I done now to deserve you saying my name?” That’s it. Astarion will have her until all she knows and feels is him. He dives on his precious woman again, giggling into her lips, when a loud crash and grunt comes from the entrance of the room and Zelie breaks the kiss in alarm.

Astarion curses himself for having left his daggers in his pack, using his undead reflexes to stand in front of Zelie, fangs bared. Useless idiot. If it’s Orin, or one of her followers, there won’t be much he can do besides giving his love time to escape (As if she’d ever let him face any danger on his own, mad woman.) “Astarion, wait! It’s just Lae’zel.”

“I require washing. I’ll be merciful and give you two seconds to vacate the tub. Do not try me!”

If Lae’zel were not as useful in battle, Astarion would slit her throat, because how dare she interrupt—

He startles when a clean, blue shirt drapes over his shoulders; Zélie stands next to him, already dried and half dressed (How did she manage that?!). The perfume on the garment tells him it’s one of her camp shirts. He wouldn’t admit it, not yet, but he rests infinitely better when wearing something of hers. It fits him fine—pillaging fallen enemies doesn’t allow the luxury of picking the correct size for their clothes.

“Make yourself scarce for a while, Gith!” He shouts as he gets dressed, and narrowly avoids a flower pot aimed for his head. Astarion is wondering yet again what Gith blood tastes like when Zélie firmly cradles his face, utters a “Behave,” and kisses him as if air were optional for her too.

Fine. He’ll behave this once.

Lae’zel’s presence fades away as all he can perceive is his hero clutching him like he’ll disappear. As if it were that easy to get rid of him.

He clings to her red blouse—one of his, he thinks with pride—and when she breaks the kiss to breathe he hoists her up, her legs tangling around his slender waist instinctively. His nose tickles as her mad curls, free from their braids, are all over his face.

Gods, she’s beautiful.

“That’s it! Out!” Lae’zel bellows while pointing her sword at them, mud crusted all over the blade. “The puny vampire has thwarted you, Zélie. I expected better from you. Now, leave!”

Oh for hells' sa—

“So sorry, Lae’zel, we’re out! Have a nice bath.” Zélie is still perched on him as he pads to her bed. They have been sleeping separately since getting to Elfsong. He hates it; would she see him as overbearing if he asked—

“Sleep together?” Her little smile is so sincere and uncharacteristic that he drops her on the mattress, immediately laying on top of her.

Yes.

“Why, darling, do you miss me?” he grins. Say yes, please.

“Of course. You’re too far now. I can’t fall asleep to your soft, sweet snores anymore.”

Something in his chest unravels, even as he threatens her to make her pay for this insult to his beautiful self.

“Astarion?”

“Mhm?”

“Bring your blanket, if you want.”

If he had met her when he was still mortal, if he had been a better person back then (More deserving), he would have mocked her righteousness and then married her in an instant. He knows. The hero of his dreams, packed in an impossible, stubborn, overly-honourable woman. Astarion would have still outlived her, but he would have had the certainty he would go find her, in the afterlife. He had a habit of taking the road less travelled, after all.

Now, soulless, beaten husk of a thing that he is, he vows to hold on to her until all time ends and stars fade. Even after he will be no more, when new worlds are born, the memory of them will remain.

#astarion x oc #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #oc: zelie #bg3 oc #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #astarion fluff #bathtime #thank you lae'zel for being a cockblock

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nerdalmighty · 2 months

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hey! so, i just recently started playing baldur's gate 3 after seeing people put it all over my dash for months--and you're one of the people i've seen reblogging a lot of posts about it LOL. so if you don't mind me asking, i was wondering what kind of character do you/did you play as? and do you have any sort of backstory for your tav that you'd like to share?

Hoooooooooooooh my god thank you so much for asking. I have a friend who comes over to watch me play on Thursdays and I make a powerpoint every week to catch her up on what she missed - this week's powerpoint literally has slides about my Tav's background (more on those later). This is about to be long, I'm about to drop ALL my lore so buckle up! AND THANK YOU FOR PUTTING UP WITH MY BG3 BRAIN WORMS!!!!! I'm glad they convinced you to play 😈

So to begin, I've been in my first ever dnd campaign with a group of friends for a little over a year now. I didn't know much about Baldur's Gate except that it was a dnd video game and that you could romance people. Me, being a Big Fan of Romance And Fantasy was like "okay well I'm in" and my friend actually let me start a game at his house. Through that, I met Shadowheart, Gale, and Astarion.

Backing up a bit to my character; I decided I'd put my character from my irl dnd campaign into the game since I already knew her whole deal. I get pretty overwhelmed with making decisions, ESPECIALLY with big open world games like bg3, so knowing who/what I wanted to be really helped me out.

In the campaign I'm in with friends, it's pirate themed, and I play a half-elf bard named Birdie Harp who's secretly half-siren (murder mermaid). To make a long story very short, she was born in the arctic and escaped her murderous pod during a coming-of-age trial where she also lost her siren abilities (hypnotizing voice, breathing underwater, etc).

I've watched a ton of Dimension 20 which is an actual play show on Dropout.tv (an "actual play" is where you watch other people run a campaign of dnd - like Critical Role, which a lot of people have at least heard of - HIGHLY recommend Dimension 20, as I find it incredibly funny and easier to get into than CR because of the episode lengths), and I knew that I really liked the silliness and theatricality of the bard class. I also loved the bards from The Owl House which helped influence my decision as well.

To be honest, Birdie is my first ever dnd character, so she's basically a self insert but with a MUCH more traumatic backstory than me (this IS dnd after all). As for the half-elf aspect, it was more of an "I want to be half mermaid, what's similar to that?" as opposed to a love for half-elves or something.

BACK TO BALDUR'S GATE - knowing I wanted Birdie to be in the game, I felt a lot less overwhelmed to come up with something entirely new - I knew a lot about the bard class having played one so I wanted to CONTINUE playing one (and I've learned even more since playing bg3!).

When I finally got my own game (I no longer play at my friend's house, but in the comfort of my own home), I recreated Birdie and started on my journey in earnest. I'm VERY MUCH someone who likes to be in control and know what to expect, so I've had guides and walkthroughs to help me the whole time - SUE ME! When it came to first meeting Shadowheart, Gale, and Astarion back at my friend's house, Gale actually immediately stole my heart - a kind, witty wizard who likes books and cats? Literally say less. I went home from that session with my friend fully thinking I'd be a Gale girlie until I really looked into the other options and saw The Vampire.

Blah blah blah, he's hot and funny, but he can also be incredibly soft, which really won me over in the end. So I've been romancing That Guy.

Through Acts 1 and 2, I wasn't all too sure about this version of Birdie's background - sure she COULD still be that half-siren from the arctic, but the game kept suggesting she was FROM Baldur's Gate. I LOVED the inclusion of the harpies in Act 1 and thought maybe that was a viable entry point for her backstory, but so far, she was kind of just... me? She was making the choices I wanted to make (and a few that I knew Astarion would like lmao), but she wasn't really her own entity apart from me except for her name. She also felt vastly different from that character I'd created for my friends over a year ago. For instance, my irl Birdie currently has a crush on a Gale-type character, but this Birdie is ass deep in Astarion (hey, sorry I said "ass deep in Astarion"). The thing I love about Baldur's Gate 3 is how you can really come up with your own backstories, since the in-game one for your Tav is so vague. It's totally fine to ignore tiny details in the game and mold them to your own headcanons for your Tav, but I was so unsure of what I wanted for this Birdie that I kind of internalized that she was from Baldur's Gate.

HEADS UP! The following has some spoilers for Act 3 and some side quests, so STOP reading if that's something you'd care to avoid (the last 3 paragraphs of this post are SAFE from spoilers):

When Act 3 finally rolled around (which is where I am currently, I only have the one playthrough so far because I become INCREDIBLY attached to things), I stumbled across the Water Queen's House in Baldur's Gate. Ah ha! Now this felt promising.

A temple dedicated to the Vengeful Sea Goddess, Umberlee, and her loyal Wave Servants to serve her. It's ocean themed, it has mermaid undertones, and their goddess is basically evil. Seems like the perfect place to FINALLY insert this version of Birdie. I wasn't 100% sure until I completed the Iron Throne mission and was faced with either handing a (mostly) innocent man over to the Wave Servants, or fighting to defend him.

Here are a few of the slides from this week's powerpoint that I mentioned all the way back at the start, starting with SOME background on the Wave Servants:

Ass and Shart are what I affectionately call Astarion and Shadowheart (Also I got this beautiful "Birdie" art on Pinterest which originated from someone named Dantrelium on Reddit):

Apologies for the small text here, but there are some more details about THIS Birdie here, which I literally made up/figured out earlier this week:

Essentially, this Birdie was born at the Water Queen's House as Kittiwake Crest - Kittiwakes are common arctic birds, which I thought would be a nice little homage to the original character she was based off of. She was raised by the collective of Wave Servants there, the main one being Flood Tide Allandra Grey who seems to be head honcho at the Wave Mother's House (in this reality, she is).

Since Umberlee is such a vengeful goddess, I imagine she asked her Wave Servants to commit unspeakable acts in her name, mainly drownings, which THEY see as merciful, but I think Birdie always saw as horrifying. Who were they to decide the fates of others? I also think that the Wave Servants themselves were abusive during her upbringing to keep her in line (but much like how Nocturne was a light in the darkness for Shadowheart, I don't think EVERY Wave Servant was evil). GOTTA have a classic tragic backstory.

Upon researching Umberlee, I learned that most of her servants are clerics, so in my mind, that means Birdie was raised to eventually become one, with her official title eventually going to be "Seawind Kittiwake Crest." Is she still half-siren/mermaid though? Not entirely sure. This IS a magical world though, so I'd be inclined to say yes, probably.

But when we first meet the Wave Servants, they're singing beautifully for their drowned sister, Holli. I think Birdie REALLY loved music and singing with her sisters and secretly trained herself in bard magic when she should have been learning to be a cleric. It's also a classic trait of bards to hide their pain through humor, so I often imagine the type of stupid things Birdie gets up to to bring herself joy (my favorite headcanon being when you meet Skittle the Rat in Wyrm's Rock prison - he's a rat merchant who speaks exclusively in puns. I think Birdie and Gale would excitedly throw puns back and forth with Skittle while Astarion and Shadowheart begrudgingly (and affectionately) roll their eyes in the background).

Another thing I love about the game is how you can string together your own ideas of how companions react to things between big cut scenes. For example, in my head, in my game, Astarion has really become a Big Softy thanks to how fucking Stupid (affectionate) Birdie acts in life and has drawn him out of his shell, but also runs a tag team scam with her where she plays her lute to distract people while he loots an entire place. Gale is Birdie's partner in crime when it comes to tomfoolery and loves to joke and fool around with her (so long as it goes easy on his knees). And Shadowheart is basically a sister figure who flip flops between sassing with Astarion and joining in on the fun. THEY'RE JUST THE BEST, OKAY? OF COURSE I'M GONNA WALK AROUND WITH A BUNCH OF IDIOTS. I LOVE THEM.

Anyway, back to Birdie's backstory: she always hated the atrocities that were asked of her, and she was looking for a way out, but was too scared to take that step and leave since the Wave Mother's House is all she's ever known. One night, while stepping out to quietly dip her toes in the water, the Mindflayers captured her, and that's where we start Act One, all the way up on the Nautiloid. She changed her name to Birdie to distance herself from her previous life, fully took up the bard class, and the rest is history.

Back to that dilemma with handing over that (mostly) innocent guy or fighting the Wave Servants: with encouragement from the party, they convince Birdie to face her traumatic upbringing and fight the Wave Servants once and for all. At this point in Act 3, she's basically helped every single person with their problems except her own. Here's another slide featuring Ass and Birdie:

That's right folks, Birdie faced her past! But the bad news is we don't get to see Astarion in this (audio from The Adventurous Adventures of One Direction):

(Video description - Astarion from Baldur's Gate 3 wearing the Wave Mother's Armor with the following audio:

Guard 1: Whoa, check it out.

Guard 2: Hubba hubba hubba.

Gaurd 1: Nice. I love dudes in skirts.

END VIDEO.) I don't want to tell you how many times I recorded that until I felt like I got it right lol. Also yes, I DID do a scum save where I handed the guy over ONCE just so I could see Ass in this outfit, but Birdie did canonically save Redhammer in my actual save file.

And honestly, that's BASICALLY it for now! My most recent save was after that battle, so I need to figure out if Birdie's going to go back with her party to confront the rest of (or most of) the Wave Servants, or if this chapter of her life is closed.

In an ideal world I'd LOVE to make one of those artsy gif edits of my Tav like this and this, but PS5s make it hard to download clips without uploading them to YouTube first which I don't really want to do.

Thank you SO MUCH for this ask, I had a blast writing it!! Sorry it's so long, I just love this game so much and LOVE talking about it. Please feel free to ask more questions OR chat with me about YOUR Tav! I'd love to hear all about them :)

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thelurchinghound · 4 months

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Midnight snack

[Request info] - [Navigation] - [His Pinterest]

Gender: Tiefling! FTM reader

Kinks/Warnings: Non-con, dacryphilia, eating out, fingering. Words like cunt, pussy, clit, etc used for the reader. Mentions of death.

A/n: Ah love my evil cowboy guy, he's so silly. Sorry if this is shit cuz I wrote this at like 1 in the morning on no sleep and a dream. Felt like I should fed y'all or something. THERE ARE MINOR SPOILERS FOR BG3 ACT 1.

By hitting 'keep reading' you are accepting that you're fine with reading my content (Don't like? Don't read and scroll.)

The smell of blood lingered in the grove after the slaughter of the tieflings and druids. Bodies of all sizes lay in piles of blood, bile by some. Goblin shouts echo in victory, looting the wooden trunks and grabbing all the beer they can. Though, Adonis didn't even glance at them. A sneer of dark satisfaction on his lips as his foot made a sickening crunch to the tiefling's head. Killing it if it wasn't dead already. His foot plants on their chest, and with a rough yank, he pulls his long sword from their stomach. Clearing the weapon of its gruesome traces on their shitty rags that they used to call clothes.

"Pity, so young, so stupid," he grumbled in a low voice to himself, his tone holding no remorse for the young tiefling. With a grunt, he stretches out, turning to talk to Minthara. The flick of a tail out of the corner of his eye drew his focus. Now that made his eyebrow quirk, a devilish smile gracing his plump lips. It seems the lucky ring he pried from that bratty kid's hands did work after all. He strolled towards the barrel, both hands on the hilt of his sword. His leather boots squelch in the bloody mud.

Adonis didn't even give you a chance to struggle, plead, or try and shove him away. His bloody fist twisted the collar of your shirt. Pulling you up to him, his peach eyes staring daggers into yours. He looked at you with malice, so much anger in his heart for a stranger. The half-elf reeked of spilled guts and liquor. It was pungent, assaulting your senses, and left a bad taste on your tongue. It made your face cringe, though he didn't seem to notice or care enough.

"Well, what do we have 'ere?" He said, shifting from one foot to the other. His gloved hand yanked your face from side to side. The stickiness of blood now coated you. Sharp eyes examining every little detail of you. "You're slicker than a hog in a mud puddle, ain't ya? Thought ya could escape my eyes? My wrath?" Adonis hissed before a swift knock to the head befitted you. You were out cold in less than a second.

When you woke up next, you didn't recognize the place, a cloth gag stuffed in your mouth. Your clothes were somewhere to your side, you seemed relatively unharmed. Tight knots secured your limbs, rendering any attempt at escape futile. The groggy thud of your head made it hard for your eyes to stay open, and the cheering of the goblins didn't help. The sleeping roll under you pressed against your aching limbs, it was cheap with no cushion to it. Quiet chatter between a man and a woman passed through the tent's folds. The talk was short, you could make anything out. The sharp ringing in your ears hadn't subsided.

The tent's fabric abruptly got yanked open to reveal the same man from earlier. Adonis didn't miss the way your tail flicked nervously or how your eyes darted around. "Relax darlin' I ain't 'ere to hurt you, yet," a faint chuckle leaves him as he says that. "Thought I deserved a lil' treat." The hat settled onto the surface with a gentle thud. "And I must say, you look like quite the treat. Not usually my type but better than the ugly muck of goblins out there," he was on you by that point. The leather gloves he was wearing were now discarded on the side by the hat. Scared hands run over curves and dip of your body. His body shivered when his fingertips ran over the ridges of your skin. They run down until reaching your tail, wasting no time grabbing it in a harsh grip.

Instinctively your tail coils around his forearm like a snake. An amused smirk suggested that he found the action rather entertaining. Leaning down he places rough kisses along your body. Starting at your jaw until he gets down between your thighs. The half-elf spread apart your thighs, his nose digging between your folds. Hot wet tongue lapping at the sweetness dripping down. Letting his teeth scrape against your sensitive bud. A muffled cry leaves your lips, your body trying to shuffle away fruitlessly. He pulls back a little, thumb swiping across his bottom lip with a hum. "Damn doll, you sweeter than any pie I ever tasted. Lemme get another taste," he snorted before diving back in with the addition of his fingers. One finger probes at your entrance before sliding in, he pumps it in and out for a bit before adding another in. While his fingers work on your cunt his lips roughly suck at your clit.

Tears streak down your face as Adonis keeps working on your cunt. You could hardly feel your numbing thighs quivering as that coil in you started to tighten. Though, your pleasure got cut off when the half-elf pulled back with a shit-eating grin. "Names Adonis, by the way," he impishly said. "Now, now. Stop yer pretty lil' crying. The fun hasn't even started yet," the hand that was holding your thigh unbuttons his pants. His erection is already swollen and throbbing.

#male insert #yandere male #male yandere #male x male #male reader #trans male reader #male x ftm reader #ftm reader #ftm bottom #🗡lurchers.ocs #my oc: Adonis #my ocs: adonis #x male reader #x reader

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pacificwaternymph · 4 months

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i have been having flower ranchers thoughts, and was wondering if there were any ideas youve been rotating in your mind but haven't said anything about yet?

they're such silly little guys

I know everyone seems to agree which empire Tango would end up if he were plopped into season two (I mean, Tumble Town, the ranch, Jimmy, ya know), but what about season 1?

I feel like he'd avoid places with a lot of water like the ocean and the swamps, because of his whole association with fire. And I feel like he'd avoid areas with a lot of foliage like... the overgrown, the undergrove, or the jungle since there is a LOT of flammable material there.

My first thought actually was Pixandria or Mezalea, since they're the hottest and driest, and also Tumble Town is in a mesa and the Vigil in Pixandra with all the candles... idk I feel like you could do something with that.

But then if we also take into account that one skin of his that has like the blue hair (which from what I've seen no one can agree on whether that is ice or blue fire), then maybe he's an elf who lives in Rivendell? Maybe he's... idk, the keeper of the ancient elven library, or resides in a series of catacombs beneath the city.

I think... the idea I like the best is having him in the Grimlands, since they seem to be very innovative and technology based, and also they have their whole lore with the redstone which fits in nicely with what I know of Tango.

Maybe he's an advisor to Fwhip, or otherwise close to him, and he and Jimmy get to have a nice little enemies to lovers arc. Jimmy starts having flashbacks to double life (if we play around with the timeline here) while also having flashbacks to 3rd life and has no idea what it means. He remembers two different husbands from two different lifetimes, but he can't remember their faces, and he doesn't know why but his heart starts to pick up and his face flushes every time he imagines that arrogant elven king and that unbearably smug redstoner from the grimlands.

Meanwhile both Scott and Tango are having dreams of a husband with golden hair and equally golden wings, dying in front of them, and they don't know what it means. He feels real, real enough that they want to find him and be with him again. Maybe they discover each other's dreams and start trying to find their shared husband together, and fall in love along the way. And they're both developing crushes on the Codfather the more they see of him.

But obviously it can't be Jimmy, are you insane? They said wings, he's a fish. (They're all so stupid /affectionate)

I started out with no thoughts at all and then you dragged this from me. Thanks lol this was fun to think about.

IDK, I'd love to hear other people's ideas for season 1 empires Tango.

#empires smp #empires smp season 1 #empires smp s1 #empires season 1 #empires s1 #flower ranchers #flower husbands #team rancher #rancher duo #snowbugs #3rd life #3rd life smp #double life #double life smp #she speaks!!

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nights-at-crystarium · 11 months

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Fragments - episodes 19-22 author notes

You can find similar breakdown posts on older episodes in my pinned!

Obligatory ShB spoiler warning.

First off, the two panels that took a silly amount of time just because I wanted to reflect Vivi’s impressions on the city.

Episodes 18, 19, 20 open up with Vivi being concerned with the most pressing matters:

Can’t fight if you ain’t pretty (or got just 1-2 outfits to be pretty in, that won’t do either)

I still really like the panel above, especially their pose. Episodes 19-22 show how they gradually get rid of physical boundaries. They didn’t even touch back when they first met (episode 15).

Vivi’s casual about physical affection with friends, just one of his core things.

Of course Vivi would trust and choose the company of a pixie, a supernatural being, over a (presumably) human who only reinforces Vivi’s worst opinions on humanity at that point in time, concealing himself and swimming in secrets. Get rekt nerd.

At least Vivi isn’t openly hostile, just.. Dismissive? I saw some other WoLs who outright hate Exarch for abducting the Scions and almost getting themselves, the WoL, killed at Ghimlyt Dark. Vivi, however, just wants to be left alone.

Tfw the love of your life is being stolen by your dear friend. Or vice versa? Or both at the same time? Anyway, Vivi and Feo Ul form a new cool kids' club and Exarch isn't invited.

Can't relax in your favorite secluded spot for a godsdamned moment without some pesky dragoon randomly popping out of nowhere.

While I hc Exarch being able to sense living presence around the Tower, imagine doing that 24/7 for every person. I like to think that he learned to filter it out, turn off/on at will. And while he's in a public place, with his glamour up, he doesn't need to upkeep the "radar", he's just chilling and is possibly lost in thoughts, and that's why Vivi startles him.

This scene bears more symbolic meaning than plot importance. And, uh, some foreshadowing? Forelighting? x'D While Vivi doesn’t fall (heh) for his savior, he’ll reflect upon this at a later time.

Vivi’s normally careful and stately. Yes he’s an elf but he do be carryin’ himself like a cat. There’s a lot of control and assertion behind his trademark nonchalant posture. So, NORMALLY, this wouldn’t happen. Maybe he got distracted by the shiny? And where’s Feo Ul?

Exarch, however, the man that chokes on air unprompted, in a moment like this acts before he could think. As some people correctly noted, the old man’s QUICK. The “screentime” stretches out as Vivi’s life almost begins flashing before his eyes, while for Exarch it's gotta be a mere second or two.

I’m extra proud of the colorwork here. As if blood’s gone from Vivi’s face, as if his entire body went cold, but life slowly returns to him, starting with that hand. You bet this’s brimming with subtext.

Exarch uses his left hand over the right, for better friction and probably because he doesn’t like the attention to his right hand.

I like that this panel’s caused confusion, it worked as intended :9 An all too vague dark joke that almost cost Vivi his life. In his head it went like “yeah anyone can fly once, when they’re about to go splat”, but he wasn’t only preoccupied with the jumps, but also didn’t KNOW yet that he HAS TO speak with a fae like almost with a child, or a lawyer. Simplest terms. No ambiguity. EVER. They’ll misinterpret you unwittingly, or on purpose.

And so they did. Or didn’t? Feo Ul’s spent a long time offscreen, but whether they chose not to help, or even gave Vivi a little push, will forever stay a mystery because why not.

Lesson learned.. On both sides.. Hopefully. Also, fret not, Exarch WILL say fuck one day, one day~

Vivi's lucky. Incredibly so. He's aware of it, doesn't see it as anything special, like you don't see anything special in being able to read this. Perhaps jumping up an unknown structure while being accompanied by an exceedingly curious and mischievous creature is risky even for his kind, but Vivi's so used to getting away with so many things that he doesn't stop to consider it for the tiniest moment.

The first genuine exchange of smiles.

Silver lining: now they have better chances at getting along and returning to that world-saving duty.

Update from January 2024: I came back here to tell you something that took me so long to realize about episode 20′s description:

And all he saw was the Light, and then he knew that Death wore white in this world.

I randomly popped off with this prose, which on itself is a cool thing, but now I realize the extra meanings it could take on. Thinking about 5.x and Elidibus has me feeling unwell in the best way. THAT VIVI ALSO WEARS WHITE HERE IS UH. A coincidence. But it also kinda works as the Warrior of Darkness becomes somewhat of a local Reaper in the First, and then, well, then we have that Light corruption arc :3c

Vivi's calm and tender enough for a pixie to trust him with their wings.

Feo Ul ate and drank several times their size, and all that hero talk.. Ugh. Time for a nap.

Drawing this made me yawn at least 3 times. You’re not immune either.

He’s activating his scanners :>

Vivi's definition of nice is "not nagging, begging or preaching, and using bare facts and logic to convince the hero to do the hero thing".

Literally the next page if you’re reading in order :’> Riiiiiiiiight. That hero thing.

We don’t question whether Vivi invited his loveliest branch, or if they invited themselves. The fact is, they’re there and Vivi’s totally cool with it.

Exarch must be watching. And probably foaming at mouth as Feo Ul keeps leading in the race for Vivi’s heart. They don’t only earn the hero’s trust, but get in his bed and, gasp, brush his hair.

Vivi's getting comfy in his role somewhere between a disney princess and Feo Ul’s pet.

A writing-related tangent incoming, but, since you’re here, I assume you’re already somewhat interested in this kinda stuff.

So, there’s the script, the plain text that waits to get illustrated. The screenplay, if you will. I don’t just sit down and draw enough random things to fill a few pages, I approach this as an actual cohesive serialized story.

I changed a good half of this episode when I began storyboarding it. In the initial script from some months ago, Vivi said "I slept so well". Something about this didn't sit right with me. It’s the most basic mistake of telling instead of showing. I asked myself, would he, a person who takes good sleep and dreams for granted, say that out loud? Nah. I removed that bit, and drew him stretching deliciously. He also asked Feo Ul if they guarded his dreams, they smiled vaguely but warmly just like in the finalized version, but then Vivi simply muttered "I could get used to this" and gave them headpats. I decided to elevate this scene by adding this tiny rollercoaster, which brought Feo Ul's greyness to the forefront, and thickly hinted that Vivi doesn't only sleep well, but has nice dreams that he probably starts cherishing after this.

To be fair, this isn’t super important for the main plot, I just wanted to highlight the difference between Vivi and Exarch, the latter being in a hate-hate relationship with sleep. Vivi’s affinity with dreams is a door I like to keep open for the possible future story (talking post-EW events).

Now you know this’s the face they make before going apeshit.

Imagine if this prank didn't exist and instead Vivi simply said "I slept so well, this's so important to me". I’m proud of the writing muscle I’m growing on the fly ;w;

Ardbert's chance to act and feel normal, thwarted in the next few seconds.

I'm so glad that people are picking up on this!! “Hey man” is Vivi’s way of providing whatever comfort he could. An illusion of normalcy. He’s emotionally intelligent when it matters.

..But he should’ve also considered that Feo Ul can and will ruin the vibe :’>

Another screenwriting thing: this episode lacks an establishing shot, i.e. the obligatory zoomed out view on everyone in the room, but I think this’s a rare case of “less is more”. Along with the light vs shadow, it reinforces the feeling of separation. Vivi and Feo Ul are shown together, interacting, doing cute stuff, while Ardbert’s alone. Sorry not sorry for the hurty :’>

This’s all I’ve got for now. Thanks for reading and paying so much attention! People start to notice and analyze the things I’m weaving in, and it’s the best kinda interaction I as a creator could wish for.

#shb spoilers #ffxiv #ffxiv: fragments #fragment ii: new world old friend #fragments talk

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thelordofgifs · 10 months

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Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: The Final!

Nerdanel vs One (1) Rivendell elf who sings tra-la-la-lally

Nerdanel:

Nerdanel, called The Wise, was the wife of Fëanor, and known as a great sculptor. She refused to follow her family to Middle-earth in the revolt of the Noldor.

Best known as the woman who looked at the hot mess that is Fëanor, went “is anyone going to marry that?” and did not wait for an answer, Nerdanel is also so much more than just the beloved wife of Fëanor. Most notably, she is a sculptor (apparently a male-dominated field in Noldorin society) - her statues are so life-like that the friends of the depicted would go up and talk to them! She is also wise enough to land the epithet Istarnië, which means Wise One, and she is the only person Fëanor ever listened to, which borders miracle territory. Although when she married the pretty young crown prince of the Noldor, people said she was not good-looking enough for him, Fëanor begged to differ, as they had seven kids together, which is the largest amount of kids any Elven couple ever had. There must have been a lot of passion there (or maybe they just really wanted a daughter?). Although Nerdanel always seemed to have wise counsel for her husband, apparently she did not put up with his, as she was close friends with Indis, his stepmother he did not like. Unfortunately, their marital bliss did not last; when Fëanor pulled a sword on his half-brother Fingolfin (Indis's son) and was exiled, she did not come with him and instead stayed with Indis. This is often seen as her inventing divorce, although a more boring reading could simply suggest she disagreed and did not fancy accompanying him (LaCE does say Elven couples could keep separate households for extended periods of time). She also did not think about coming to Beleriand with him after he swore his terrible oath, although she did beg for him to leave her at least one of her kinslaying spawn sweet adorable baby boys (preferably the one she very ominously tried her hardest to name The Fated as a baby). I suppose the resulting, kind of permanent, separation, could definitely count as divorce.

she is a sculptor and an artisan so skilled that Feanor’s love for her competed with his own love of craft and creation. She raised seven sons and pleaded for their fates with Feanor because of how much she loved them and even though she loved him too, she stuck to her own beliefs and refused to leave Valinor….she’s so girlboss and she said you can go be a tragic archetype but our children don’t deserve that and also I will stay right here. We love a woman who refuses to give up her joys and her home even for a man she loves and ESPECIALLY since it was Feanor….the strength of her will is insane. I love her.

One (1) Rivendell elf who sings tra-la-la-lally:

One of the Elves of Rivendell who sing tra-la-la-lally in The Hobbit.

This one specific elf sings tra la la lally with the rest but he is slightly off key and the other elves bully him for it

they’re SILLY!!! We need NEED more silly elves!! Like who are these weirdos just hanging out in the trees of Rivendell? Did they know the dwarves were coming and gather their friends to specifically climb those trees to sing nonsense at them? Do they just normally sit there and sing about every little thing they see? Is this a traditional Rivendell thing or are those elves just really strange? I’m obsessed with them they’re everything to me. Elves are oft portrayed as being Too Serious in this fandom and silly elves need rights too! Silly elf rights!!!!

Final masterpost

#obscure tolkien blorbo #nerdanel #queuevienen

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dismas-n-dismay · 7 days

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Hi! It's me again (I'm transferring to a bachelor's in biology this fall and I love the science that goes into the series so I love that you're exploring this)

Do either of them have hoarding instincts or dietary preferences or are they pretty much human in that regard?

They'd possibly be born with baby teeth, at least in Haze/Hazel's case, would that change anything? (Hazel would probably fit better because Falin is half French on her father's side from what I remember from the Adventurer's Bible and it feels even that they'd both get to name a kid but that's just my opinion)

Haru with his mouth full: Checkit!! Blegh!! Haize: Gross. Good job, Haru, you're a natural hunter!

Welcome back to part 10,000 of me talking about my silly ocs. Hi. hello. Thank you sooo much for coming back with more biology questions for these two hehehe >:]c

Diet Preferences?

These two are quite the oddballs. Haru is an insectivore by simple dragon nature while Haize is a carnivore by hers, though their elven and tallman sides balance them out to be closer to omnivores! Light dragons commonly eat bugs as they're the easiest prey to attract when ur big and flashy though this keeps them very lithe and they typically have more slender builds, though the proteins do help a lot. Conversely, red dragons being mostly carnivores results in their larger build and their obvious frequency to be the most dominant and persevering dragon species- y'know. Because they murk the other ones due to their weaker diets and builds.

Haru started to eat bugs right around the time it was warm enough for him to go outdoors without getting sick, I imagine he would've eaten a butterfly or a dragonfly much to Marcille's horror. Like that vine of the pug eating the butterfly with his owner screaming no! Backtracking a bit though to give some cool facts about baby light dragons because I decide the lore. I'm making them weird half mammal half bird-lizards because I think the variety is cool but this also means that - up until baby light dragons can open their eyes and properly attempt to hunt - they drink milk from their parents! (Whether or not this is crop milk like birds produce is entirely up to the reader's imagination, I will not judge but I will choose either one if asked)

So up until he started going outside, Haru was perfectly content just drinking milk like any other baby- Haize was not. Unlike Haru she was born with baby fangs!! Just little milk teeth to help her get a headstart for the world and such, but she grew hungrier for something more diverse than milk very quickly. Red dragons, unlike light dragons, don't do the whole milk thing so Haize was only partially satiated due to being part elf and tallman but the minute she was allowed to eat soft meats she basically refused to go back. So just imagine like a 1 year old eating various lunch meats for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Honestly it was probably for the best, Haize's fangs bit into Marcille a lot and they were worried she might grow a taste for blood if she kept accidentally nicking her mom while trying to eat. She probably would have and it would've been a really bad habit to get rid of because she hadn't developed that big girl brain to be like "Hey maybe drinking blood isn't super cool."

All in all, the Touden-Donato sibs have slightly preferenced diets! Though Haize prefers meats, nectar, and citrus fruits while Haru prefers bugs, ground vegetables, citrus fruits, and any/all milk based desserts (he just really likes them). God if these kids ever got their hands on sorbet it would be a disaster, Falin and Marcille would literally spend a week trying to explain why they cant have ice cream for every meal and have to deal with whining dragonets the whole time.

2. Hoarding Instincts

They do have hoarding instincts! Though this is one of those things that differs from dragon to dragon on how they react with it. Light dragons tend to go for the flashiest treasures to make themselves more appealing and alluring, naturally they like the attention they draw in just from an instinctual standard. They frequently discard rusted, unpolished, or just not as eyecatching treasure all the time. They really just arent particular about the whole thing unless they see you have an interest in something they were previously disinterested in- then they're smug assholes who see their treasure as still having some renewed value. So essentially Envy = Worthy to them, but they arent extremely vain creatures despite their hoarding preference and are actually particularly generous within reason. It's very common for light dragons to gift their young, mates, or siblings with treasures from their own hoards or that they've taken for themselves to gift. Typically though the gifting of treasure is to help younger dragons start their own hoard and have an idea of what to go for when out and about for themselves.

That being said, Haru is a greedly little fucker who wants every single new treasure possible, fuck you. He's very grateful for being part elf and tallman because he's aware that he can make his beautiful treasures last long if he polishes, dusts, and cleans them! So his hoard isn't too huge if only because he's good at maintaining things. Still, if he sees something he tends to want it and is often reprimanded for trying to steal shiny gems, jewels, or artifacts just because he likes them- as Haru often gets tired with his new finds extremely quickly if they begin to bore him or don't compare to his other treasures. When it comes to his hoarding he essentially has the dragon equivalent to having eyes bigger than your stomach.

Haize, however, has your more traditional dragon's hoard of miscellanous treasures, artifacts, coins from birthdays, and prized family gifts. Much of her hoard consists of trinkets Haru grew bored with but that she still saw interest in and wanted to give renewed purpose, she isn't nearly as picky but is very curious and likes to inspect an item before taking it in. She'll often let Haru have a treasure knowing that he'll get tired of it within the hour- though she has been known to assert her place as the eldest sibling if there is a gift for her she particularly wants and Haru usually shies off. Haize doesn't assert herself as the eldest often so he knows it's business if she does for things like food or treasure. Haru keeps her hoard partially in and around the her nest as well as the family nest in Falin and Marcille's room! Her nest in the guardian is where she keeps most of her baby clothes, toys, trinkets, and cloths/blankets. She just feels they're safest there and prefers to sleep near them <3.

Also, fun tid bits on how dragons train their kids to gain treasure!: Typically young dragons get the urge to grab and snatch at shiny things as soon as they're able to crawl around functionally and protect themselves- which is pretty early due to them being predators of a mythical variety- so they'll often try and steal treasure from their parent's hoard! Older dragons use this as stealth training for their young and will often guard their treasure, sitting stop or nearby and continuously removing their children until they manage to sneak by successfully to take a trinket. Typically the larger/shiner/whatever is more impressive for the type of dragon you are is what is most rewarded for by parents but they do punish thinking a bit too big. It's good to know your limits! better to have 5 gold coins than 5 gold bricks you cant carry.

so Falin was very often having to train Haru and haize to amass their own treasures which was much easier for Haize due to her slinky and stealthy body allowing for quicker and quieter movement! Haru had to learn to fight, due to his regular baby limbs and range of movement, which didnt really work because he's so itty bitty but the thought was appreciated by Falin, learning to stand your ground is good too!

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shaniacsboogara · 1 year

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Hey Watcherinas!!! Do you enjoy watching Watcher content??? Do you enjoy posting and chatting about Watcher content online??? Would you be interested in rewatching an underrated Watcher show TOGETHER and posting about it as we go??? Then hoo boy, do I have the idea for you. Introducing...

SDNDND SUNDAYS

Every Sunday (starting Sunday, May 21st) we'll watch an episode of my personal favourite underrated Watcher series, 'Social Distancing and Dungeons and Dragons' and make some silly little posts and memes about the ep!

Why should we watch SDNDND?

Whether you're into DnD or not, SDNDND is an awesome, silly little series where Shane's storytelling really shines. As the Dungeon Master, Shane gets to guide the players (Ryan, Steven, and Katie) through a mystical fantasy world, and play a plethora of enigmatic characters who encounter the heroes along their journey. The party consists of Stephanos CoffeeBean (Steven Lim), a halfling cleric with a tragic past, a banging bod, and a heart of gold, Quezza (Katie Leblanc), a half-orc fighter with a super cool scar who's a total badass, and Steve (Ryan Bergara), a half-elf bard and little bastard (/pos). Throughout the series, the cast all grows into their characters, generating some genuinely emotional acting moments and hilarious shenanigans. If you enjoy the humour and storytelling of Puppet History, you might just love SDNDND.

Schedule

We're hoping to watch an episode of the show every Sunday. Each episode is roughly 25-35 minutes in length. The proposed schedule is as follows:

Sunday, May 21: EP 1: Social Distancing D&D • The Quarantine Games

Sunday, May 28: EP 2: How to Kill a Troll • The Quarantine Games

Sunday, June 4: EP 3: Ryan Serenades a Gnome • The Quarantine Games

Sunday, June 11: EP 4: Bergara Guitara Bird Battle • The Quarantine Games

Sunday, June 18: EP 5: Descent Into the Sewers • The Quarantine Games

Sunday, June 25: EP 6: Ryan Goes on a Murderous Rampage • The Quarantine Games

Sunday, July 2: EP 7: Deathbed Confessions • The Quarantine Games

Sunday, July 9: EP 8: Season Finale: Revenge of the Goblins • The Quarantine Games

If you're too busy to watch an episode on a scheduled day, it's no problem!!! Feel free to watch the episodes at your own times throughout the week as well, whatever works best for you!!! I personally will be posting some silly memes and things about each episode as we go, and would love for you all to join in (Almost treating it like a new Watcher release lol). This show is one of my favourites, and I really hope this can help some more people find it and get people talking about it again!!! Whether you play DnD or not, I'm sure you'll be able to enjoy this series!!! See you Sunday!!!

#sdndnd #watcher #all hail the watcher #shane madej #ryan bergara #sdndnd sundays #shane and ryan #watcher entertainment #steven lim #katie leblanc #stephanos coffeebean #steve #quezza #stevanos

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doodle-pops · 9 months

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Tales of the Heart | Part 2

Finarfin x mortal!reader

A/N: I couldn't help but continue this request as a self-written piece. Since we know he's already in ME and fell in love, why not place him in a dilemma.

Warnings: mortality contemplation, flashback

Words: 2.3k

Synopsis: Finarfin finds himself contemplating his future now that his love and duties were entangled.

Part 1 | Part 2

Knock, knock, knock. Three taps to your wooden door and the call of your name made your heart leap. He returned to you as promised.

Wasting no time, you dropped your dough half-heartedly into the pan and rushed to the front, tripping over the rug and steps on the way. Halting just a few footsteps away, you tied your hair and swiped the beads of perspiration down your face. Giving a few fans of cool air to your skin, you cleared your throat and ripped the door off its hinges to again greet his charming and fair face. This was the fifth time you were both seeing each other since your first meeting and Finarfin made it his business to ignore some of his unimportant duties that could cry a few days without him to attend to you.

“Hello.” Your greeting was always short and curt whenever you were meeting him; never able to get more than two words out. It was that silly elven effect you heard from many that they possessed. Lucky to know that you were experiencing it the same way for love.

“Greetings my love.” His voice was never above the howling of the wind, but as sweet as the merry tune of a nightingale. Eyes that held yours made you believe you were swimming in an ocean of blue. Lips that stretched into a grin made you stand on your tippy toes to crane your neck for sweet nectar. And a smile so heavenly that washed away all your worries and doubts.

The whispers of being a mortal and loving an elf had already spread throughout the town. Most villagers were eager to place fear and reminder that you would grow old and wrinkled, and he would no longer find beauty in you. How vacillating was mortal life compared to an elf? Your thoughts were plagued many nights with wondering if his love for you was true and he saw beauty, or if he was lying. But that kiss and smile…it melted your fears and filled you with positivity.

“I come baring gifts for you little bird,” he cheered, though his hands were empty, and nothing was present behind his larger figure.

Your eyes peered around him as best as you could glance for any noticeable trace of an object, but none came into sight. The action urged you to frown and pout, leaving the King chuckling at his lover’s sulky expression. It wasn’t every day Finarfin got to experience the array of emotions that mortals, even you, displayed. All he was familiar with were rage, fear, guilt, happiness and despair. The others expressed entirely differently from elves was an eye-opener for him. More the merrier as he would claim it to be.

Stepping backwards and ushering him into your house, you still marvelled today at the difference between him and your doorframe. Bending his poor back to enter a confined spacing, he had never made it his business to complain. You gathered that he understood the differences in living between elves and men.

“What gifts have you come bearing my love? I see no cloth or item in your hand,” you deliberated, roaming your eyes over his figure in case you missed something sticking out. To your disappointment, there was none.

“I believe you would be surprised to learn that your gift…is me!” he exclaimed with a cheeky wink. It felt unnatural for him to display himself so flirtatious when he was reserved and poised in swooning someone. He was never one for the youthful take on courting and showing affection since he was raised to act properly and above what was considered acceptable. All these rule-breaking would make his father and mother cast an eye at him while shouting his name.

You were turning him into a young ellon all over again. That he understood and accepted wholeheartedly.

Rolling your eyes at his antics, you smiled and walked over to him, allowing your smaller figure to become engulfed completely by the cluster of his robes, cloak and body. “You are so very childish at times Arafinwe…I love that about you,” you praised. “Most people spoke about the elves being stern and serious, only a few were described as light and cheerful.”

“Ah, perhaps the latter was my eldest and a few of his closer cousins,” he replied sorrowfully. He still was not over hearing how his family lost their lives all the way down to the last battle. At the same time, he was hesitant to reveal he was married and bore children; not many were willing to accept being with someone who was engaged before. It wasn’t familiar in elven society but heard of among the men.

Pulling away from him, you looked up and gently smiled, noticing the shift in his mood. “Well, your eldest had to get it from someone…like his handsome and cheerful father!”

Walking away and over to the kitchen to refocus on your unattended dough, he followed closely behind, stewing over words to return. A silence had fallen between you both and he used it to bubble over his next words. Glancing at you kneading the dough to the empty fireplace to the troughs that held your kitchen garden, he chewed his bottom lip. Your home was cosy as you fought to make it comfortable. Even though it was sufficient for one bedroom, kitchen, living and dining room and a porch, it was your patch of paradise. He knew that, but would you be willing to leave it behind.

“I am returning home.”

It was over a month since he broke your heart with those words, heartstrings tugging and begging to snap with every reminiscence of the scene. You hadn’t seen him since that day he came to your door and broke the sorrowful news. He stuck around to ensure you were well informed, but even the great King knew how grave his words were and how deep they had cut. You were left with invisible wounds to the human eyes, but open to the one who loved and sang his soul to you the most every night. The joyous look in his eyes, when those words left his lips, was replaced immediately with regret when he witnessed your status figure halting by the counter.

You weren’t pleased.

Finarfin didn’t truly know how to feel after that incident; even his mind haunted him day and night with memories of your teary eyes. Tossing left and right each night in his room he was kindly gifted by the Gil Galad; he would hold his head and wonder if falling in love with you, a mortal, was his mistake for the agony he was causing. The last time he ever loved, his heart was shattered by the actions of family and the crown, and now the crown was repeating the same heartache. The chance to love again beckoned to him like the earth held the moon; he hadn’t the strength to let go of the opportunity the Valar presented to him. A way of them making up for the problem they and his family caused. But it was still an issue and not a simple blessing; how half-hearted of them to cast a blank canvas and have him figure it all out.

He wanted to paint a picture of his future and yet they gave him no paint.

Sitting on the edge of your bed like a silent whisper of night, Finarfin's hands were curled into his lap like a child the longer he observed your peaceful state. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the twitching of your lips and eyes and the flutter of your lashes, how odd were you as a race of beings weaker than his but more fascinating than anything. He loved to observe you in your slumbering state; too many times he had often wondered where you went when you closed your eyes, wanting to follow you into the astral realm. His brows would frown whenever he attempted to evade your mind the moment you shut your eyes and slipped into your sleep.

Now, it was the most beautiful state of peace he has ever witnessed.

Roaming his eyes over your figure once more, he reached out to ghost his fingers over your cheeks and brush your hair out of your eye. The windows were opened to allow small gusts of wind to breathe the midnight ambience into your chambers. It helped his mind to wander the more he gazed at you, contemplating his future. You were a breath of fresh air after years of loneliness, too angelic to slip through his fingers without a fight. The idea of leaving you behind while he returned to Araman while you remained here, alone and with a broken heart, to wither and die without him at your side, made him choke on a sob.

Was he the moth that was drawn to the flame or were it you? He couldn’t live without you any longer.

Faith and destiny were two of the cruellest entities he had ever discovered and had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting. They thrust unwanted burdens into his heart and left him to suffer, a crown for emptiness. Now that the void could be refilled, it was at a time when the crown mattered. But I could do it. Give up the Crown and have the Valar choose Ingwё to govern; he would obey Lord Manwё’s decree without opposition. I could stay here, even if it was fifty years, I could stay. Would they let me return or deem my act as defiance, rebellion even? If it didn’t meet their wishes, everything was a crime in their eyes, but I could also…

His thoughts were abruptly cut at the suddenness of your body rolling to face him. The air in his lungs halted at the sight of the moonlight slipping through the thin sheer curtains and shining on your ethereal form. Finarfin's hands couldn’t help but brush your cheeks while his face grew warmer as you shuffled close to his touch. Your body was familiar with his scent and presence, you were craving him…missing him. The consciousness made his fёa tremble.

The things he’d do for love. They say love is dangerous, love is powerful, love drives the sanest person crazy, love makes you touch the sky and soar the heavens, love makes you do the impossible. Love was making him rethink all his purpose and duties.

The fire you rekindled within him was an imperishable flame now that the beacon was relit. He dared not allow himself to be parted from your side no matter the consequences he could face. Should his flame be doused, his world would crumble, slipping under his feet and plummeting into the abyss. Second chances didn’t come around often, especially when elves loved once, this was a miracle and a sick twisted gameplay he couldn’t afford to lose. What were the chances of snatching you into his arms and boarding his ship to depart to Valinor this instant? You would hate him for taking you away from his family.

“Would you hate me if I begged you to come with me? I am a lonely elf living in a palace like a masquerade,” he breathed wearily. His soul was growing tired from all the constant back-and-forth run-around. “I can do with someone to keep me grounded…you’d be perfect.”

Running the back of his knuckles along your cheeks, he softly smiled when you sighed and nuzzled subconsciously into his warmth. He had been here for years, slowly fading into the regular routine of his fellow elves who adapted to the changes of Middle Earth, no longer under the watchful gazes of the Valar to scold. It felt refreshing to be diverse, with no one to bark at him for any unethical and unprofessional demeanours. He knew if he took you overseas, you would face the harsh end of the stick for poor etiquette, setting you up for discrimination.

You are the High King Arafinwё, you could arrive at a peaceful conclusion.

“But what if I stayed with you…forever. What if I followed like her, the elven maiden who gave her life for her mortal lover, would you still accept me as I am? Mortality,” he brokenly whispered and clutched his chest, “it sounds painful, but I’d get to be with you forever. You’ll never slip through my fingers.” Dragging his eyes away from your face and roaming them around the room, they focused on nothing as they circumnavigated the tight enclosure.

How capricious was mortality? Today you existed, tomorrow you perished and vanished into the world beyond the outer doors. He didn’t want to suffer like his son did or undoubtedly was, but his opportunity was laid before him like a golden road with hundreds of signs. The only obstruction was his path to walk with you. He snickered. It was always he who walked the mystifying paths in life and suffering was all that he was guaranteed to know.

“Would the Valar grant you immortality likewise the opposite for me? They say I am important, but I’ve never felt so until I met you. I’ve only been at their convenience…at everyone’s convenience actually.” Shuffling his position to gracefully lie on his side and face you, he paused to marvel at the love he found. His right hand reached out once more to cup your face and rub his thumb against the softness. As a mortal, you had such remarkable and unfathomable beauty. “I’m sure they can forgive me for the decision I will make, they always do.”

When the sun rose and the ship sailed, his decision would be made.

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noirbriar · 16 days

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Glorestor: 5 Times They Denied (5)

+ 1 time They Did Not.

From the POVs of the various folks around the 2 elves who are convinced they are courting, or betrothed, even though they were told otherwise.

Take this messy thing that is nearing the end! Here is a short palate cleanser between meals with our favourite hobbit adventurer in retirement waiting to call you out on your BS.

Also one dedicated and spicy part to @tamilhobbit , you will know which one ;)

---

5] Bilbo Baggins

“Curious isn’t it?”

Curious would probably be the last thing Bilbo Baggins would choose to describe the sight before him.

In fact, this is quite possibly the last thing he had expected to see when Lord Elrond called for his sons, the twin young princes of Rivendell, to give him a tour around the Homely House.

The old adventurer has been here enough times to know his way around.Though Bilbo really thinks the Lord is simply trying to take the opportunity to keep his sons out of certain mischief. If that playful glint in their eyes are anything to go by. He has seen that bright glint in far, far, far too many young fauntlings and Frodo with his cousins to miss that look.

Retirement now suits Bilbo well in his opinion, now that he has taken one last adventure with dear Bofur and Nori to ease that restlessness in him. Even if he finds himself unable to step into that magnificent mountain once more. With the conclusion of his last journey, he lays down his walking stick and have moved into the peaceful elven haven that has ensnared his heart long ago. In a few short days, the peaceful valley of Elrond Half-elven had done wonders to his exhausted and tired old soul.

Elladan and Elrohir settles beside him, leaning on the elegant railings along the high garden pavilion.The setting sun illuminating the Valley in golden light. They have shown him the great libraries, the council rooms and lovely gardens. Not forgetting the amazing kitchens and the wondrous Hall of Fire.

Yet he finds this one that they have wondrously called 'Rivendell’s Most Unbelievable Wonder Through The Ages' the most bizarre of all.

"I'm not sure how this is...a thing?" Bilbo gives the twins a wary eye, uncertain how he should feel about this with a willowy wave of his hand to gesture at whatever he is seeing before him.

In response, the twins' smiles grow wider and bright. Although the joy of the young Lords of Rivendell sends a dull wrenching twang into his heart. For once upon a time, he knew two young princes who shared the same bright smiles and playfulness in their eyes.

No, no, stop. Don't go back down that hole you silly old Baggins. Not here, not now.

“Oh, its a thing alright! Do not be deceived, Master BIlbo! Even if they deny it to this very day. In fact," at that point, Elladan draws nearer in a whisper, "every century, the whole House will update wagers on it."

"Aye! Isn't that right, Aerion?” Elrohir turns to ask the guardsman on duty nearby with a laugh. Even though said elven guard does not share the same mirthful sentiment with a careful look out of the corner of his eye to his young lords.

“Please don't bring me into this, my Lords. For I have no wish to have my guard duty extended by any means.” Elrohir and Elladan gave a loud laugh at that dry reply, which only serves to make the twins tease the tired guard even harder. Bilbo instead, takes the moment to watch on quietly as distant voices fade in the wind.

The two mighty guardians of Rivendell, Glorfindel and Erestor. Ephemeral and strong, walking alongside each other, gliding along the slender bridges by the waterfall gracefully like all of the elves seem to do. A serene scene of peace, as the golden haired elf bows down his head like a swan to allow his shorter companion to reach up and brush away the stray water droplets from his cheek. The fair Captain taking the opportunity to grasp those slender fingers, brushing a kiss on the back of the Chief Councillor's hand. His gentle lips lingering on soft skin. While the intimidating advisor simply indulges the balrog-salyer, allowing him his little whims.

The obviously private and tender moment brings forth another wave of old memories that Bilbo have laid to rest under rock and mountain, far in the East. Of a time long ago, almost as if it was yesterday, under the same setting sun. There upon the Carrock, where Bilbo once felt the warmth of another heart who had eyes that bore the colour of the endless sky.

No.

No,no,no. No reason to have those thoughts. He's gone, they are gone, its all in the past and he can do nothing to change that fact.

Bilbo shuts his eyes and smothers the beginnings of old memories resurfacing once more with his pain and regrets. Hands clenched in his empty coat pockets, grasping for the missing weight of his old trinket, before the old Hobbit simply sighs. He lets himself feel the sun on his skin, with the gentle air of Rivendell soothing his old soul, and he tries to breathe.

---

"-Oh and don't get me started on Court of the Vanyar! They make the Noldor Court seem simpler in comparison. It was all very stifling, to me at least, even when my family are only minor members of both Courts. Every clan had their own share of drama if I must say." Glorfindel shakes his head with a sigh, while focused on tidying his treasured trees. Their shapes lovingly sculpted and grown with painstaking care over the years in beautifully commissioned pots.

"Well, from what I have read about Finwe and his family, it very much reminded me of our own Hobbit families. Bothersome, is it not? It's probably the only thing I don't miss about the Shire. Especially the Sackville-Baggins! Oh, I do hope Frodo is dealing well with it all...But he's a smart lad, that he is!" Bilbo gives a small hum as he sips his cup of sweet hibiscus tea.

The tranquil garden and flora makes Bilbo feel at ease despite stressing over greatly early on being invited to tea in the Golden Lord's quarters. Much like their master, the many flowers in Glorfindel's private garden all bloom gracefully, beautiful and bright.

Glorfindel of Gondolin, Lindon, and now Imladris, had been an enigma. For it was only recently the hobbit had the chance to be acquainted with the legendary hero of song. Bilbo had not expected the balrog-slayer who have fought countless great wars to be this easy to get along. A very charming and animated ellon. His lively spirit shines like the light around him, golden and warm like the sun

The Captain too, had been curious about their newest resident and instantly felt connected to the hobbit once he saw Bilbo arrive into Rivendell with Sting tucked proudly by his side. The old Lord’s heart had gladden to find a relic of his past have landed into good hands. It was a little later they found that they had share a great love and interest for nature and tea, with the Lord keen in sharing his knowledge with the intriguing and scholarly second-born.

Looking at these lovely flowers is making Bilbo wonder how his own gardens in Bag End fair right now, but he knows young Samwise and the Gamgees are taking care of them well.

"To be honest I am not familiar, especially of Feanor's side. I was close to Fingolfin and Turgon only because my amil had been close to Lady Indis." At that Glorfindel seemed to pause and thought quietly for a minute with a thoughtful finger to his lips," Only Erestor would know, I suppose."

"The Chief Councillor? Was he truly close to Feanor and his sons as they say?" Bilbo pops a honey cake into his mouth, trying to remember the descendants of Finwe with as much accuracy as he could.

"Too young to know Feanor! Eres had served under Maedhros and Maglor, though he grew up in Thargelion under Caranthir. He's probably the only one left on this side of the Sea who knew all of Feanor's Sons and Celebrimbor. I don't recommend asking about it. It is, and remains... a difficult subject for him." With that Glorfindel lays down the tiny scissors in his hand, while brushing away any stray twigs.

"I noticed you both are very close, it is heartening to see such close bond you share." Bilbo quickly pours the ellon a cup of tea, who receives it gratefully. "Even if Lord Erestor seem to be a formidable individual to get along."

Indeed he was, for when the first time Bilbo had encountered the Lord, he was in a full blown rage at the apprentice scribes. The Hobbit just passing through the administrative halls with Lord Elrond when they hear Erestor berating the group of staff for a mistake with the invoices for timber and construction with heavy words. It was certainly quite an impression and a contrast to the Erestor he remembered seeing later on the bridge with Glorfindel. However, Bilbo has yet been able to make further acquaintance with the ever busy, and ever elusive advisor of Elrond.

"Oh, don't tell him I said this, Eres may look cold to all, but he's much like a chestnut! Prickly on the outside, but sweet on the inside! Even if he still refuses to help me trim these little ones while I'm on patrol!" Glorfidel gestures to his little trees that seem to be dancing in their pretty pots." Moving them into the shade is all he could do, he says! Is that not terrible? Said he did not want to water for fear of drowning them, which is very silly considering we are elves! These little ones can tell him how much water they require!"

The warrior and the hobbit laugh. Until Glorfindel turns to his flowers, caressing a celandine as the warrior's mood turns sombre.

"When all saw a flawless visage of an ideal Hero returned, it was only him who saw a broken soul who was made to fit a mould from the day he was born." Glorfindel admits quietly, as if its a shameful confession."I was so lost, so alone in all that noise. From Tirion to Gondolin and to Lindon...no one knew. Not even dear Ecthelion or Elgamoth. I realised later I had resented it."

Bilbo have no words as he watches Glorfindel's eyes glaze over, reminiscing of a time long past.

"I may be blessed by the Valar, but even I am no perfect being in Eru's Song. For that, I am grateful to have met Erestor in this second life, for he was the only one who dared called me out. He had opened my eyes, so that I can find the courage in myself… to simply be 'Glorfindel'. "

Bilbo froze, his teacup nearly slipping from his hand. A chill of deja-vu sends a chill down Bilbo's spine. A hand pulls up to his cravat while the other dug deep into his pocket with a tremble.

Fingers feeling a phantom touch of hands wrapped around an acorn and his own.The lingering touch of large warm palms that once laid hands on his bare neck burns. Of bloody hands full of calloused and scars growing cold in his own.

He snaps out of his thoughts just as quickly as it came. Foolish old Baggins! Old age has certainly muddled his mind. Best to have some tea to calm those damn thoughts as Glorfindel's voice began to grow clearer once more.

"-Well! He did punch my face in and then called me a friend and a 'fucking prideful twit and indecisive dick' all in the same breathe but-It was exhilarating!"

Bilbo spits out his tea.

---

-With a snarl, Mori makes a grab for Lote's hand, unwilling to let him leave. The Lord of the Moon tugs him back, pressing his full weight against the Lord of the Gardens against a tree, determined and unwilling to let his love flee once more. Eager lips crushing against the other in a hungry kiss. Each protest drowned out by the love they have as cries yearning for more fill the air.

Overcome by want and need, they tore their robes away, seeking for skin. To feel the other in desperation and assurance after everything, to join their souls once again.

In the midst of it all, the lovers have failed to notice the eyes of another watching them intently under the cover of emerald leaves. King Taur watches on, as he finally lets go, surrendering his desire to another who had claimed the heart of the mighty Lord. While the couple continue their passionate dance, as if nothing in this world mattered but the one in their arms-

"What are you reading that has captured your attention so, Bilbo?"

The old hobbit promptly snaps the book shut. A seemingly innocent leather bound novel in violet, with naught but a crescent moon and moonflower embossed artfully on the front. With a deep breath and some time to process what he have just read as years of proper, hobbitish decorum suppressed that undignified noise from his throat.

Which is ridiculous on second thought for he was a very old hobbit, not some young fauntling.

Bilbo then slowly tilts his head up to find Elrond watching him intently with a serene smile. The elf Lord of his new home who always seem to bear a soothing presence and eyes filled with wisdom of the ages.

"Good afternoon, Elrond! A pleasant day, is it not?" Bilbo greets, making light pleasantries to dispel any possible awkwardness present. All while scooting over from his spot on the garden bench."Come to enjoy the gardens too?"

"Well, I could use a break. At least, until Erestor hunts me down once more to peruse the trade agreement with Thranduil for the fifth time. Which is still five times too many, in my humble opinion. But do not tell him that." Elrond replies, shifting beside the hobbit comfortably, before he notices the innocent looking novel in his grasp. His dark eyes brightened at the sight of the cover.

"Ah,I see you have been reading one of Rivendell's most popular literary works. Long has it been since I have seen a new update! It is a rare collectable amongst those who live here, a book that appears in rare places, strangely enough. Celebrian had loved the series. She always did her best to seek out each new book to add to her collection." Elrond smiles, reaching a hand out to peek inside the pages.

"Oh, dear Elbereth! There is even illustrations now? How marvellous!"

"This? Truly?"Bilbo is baffled by Elrond's words and finds himself babbling on, a little embarrassed still to have been caught reading what was obviously a dramatic romantic saga.

"I just happened to be looking around your library, amazing collection, very impressive! Such splendid upkeep of history and culture, I daresay, even I'm inspired to pick up my quill to write something despite my procrastinations in translation of some lore! Oh what was I saying…Oh! Its just simply by sheer chance I spotted this book with such a lovely cover! Wonderful craft! It was tucked at the top. Awfully dreadful place, too high up, but Master Melpomaen was so very kind to help me get this. Although he did looked a little unusual and seemed a little reluctant to hand it over!"

"Of course. Considering this particular series is a contraband here."

Silence.

"I'm sorry but my ears seem to be failing me for I seem to not be hearing you quite clearly. Contraband? In Rivendell? For whatever reason could some simple romance literature be a 'contraband'?" Bilbo's fingers come up to do little gestures of a quote at the incredulous revelation, unable to wrap his head around the thought. A clearly ordinary romantic fiction, that is popular and well received by readers, a contraband in Rivendell where the greatest tomes and arts are to be found? Sounds rather foolish if you speak it aloud!

"Well, it is not banned, per say. More like its author is someone my Chief Councillor has been...eager, to meet for a very long time, to put it lightly." Elrond explains after a pause, only to receive a blank look from the gentlehobbit.

The robins chirp merrily and the tulips dances on while Bilbo blinks at the elven Lord.

"The main characters, do they not remind you of anyone?" Elrond tries again with a slight wave of his hand.

Actually, they do.

"Please do not tell me its Glorfindel and..."Bilbo takes a moment, "Lord Erestor."

"Ahhh, even an outsider has quickly caught on. Yes, that book has haunted my dear Councillor for many yeni. I am surprised to see the series surfacing once more and so soon this century." Elrond continues with an enthusiastic nod. Completely disregarding Bilbo's incredulous look and twitch of his nose while slowly processing the revelation as he studies the simple cover of the novel in amazement.

The sudden quiet rustling from the leaves above catches their attention.The elf and hobbit both look up.

Cold gold eyes peers down at them in a glower. The owl hoots balefully at the two.

"And very unfortunately, that is my cue to take my leave." The master of Rivendell mutters grimly before getting up with quick, silent steps. Not before he stops and back tracks a little after a short pause.

"Also, Bilbo, whenever you are done with that book, would you kindly let me have it?"

---

The stars glitter beautifully as a great fire burns brightly in the Hall of fire. The Captain is surrounded by his soldiers and a few of the Dunedain, playing a mannish drinking game involving some tavern songs with the minstrels joining in. Elrond on the other hand, did not looked too impressed that Elrohir and Elladan are playing along with some of the more bawdy ones.

However on the outer side of the Hall, Bilbo is unable to relax in the quiet corner despite the cheerful atmosphere. Even the lovely platter of cheeses and crackers on his lap cannot distract his scattered mind.

Lindir trills a jolly verse which ends with a round of laughter from all in the Hall. Meanwhile, his Baggins-ness demands him to ignore that implusive thought, even though the idea of leaving it alone does not sit well with Bilbo. It was a thought that has been nagging at him greatly for quite awhile yet it irks him to be so uncertain in how to address it.

Namely, to the one sitting right beside him.

Erestor seemed unbothered by the troubled hobbit beside him as he turns a page of Numenorian poetry in hand, occasionally picking up a berry dipped in sweet cream to nibble on with a delicate dessert fork from his plate. The perfect image of absolute control and composure.

His Tookish-ness finally bites.

"So, you and Glorfindel?"

Erestor pauses with his fork in mid-air and turns a side eye towards Bilbo. Observing in an almost unnerving silence. Before the Councillor lets out a heavy sigh, dropping his treat on his plate as if he is tired of answering the same old question repeatedly.

"We are not courting, if that is what you are asking." The quiet advisor replies flatly and then turns back to his book.

"Indeed, that is not."Bilbo takes a deep breath," rather, why are you both not? Its rather obvious you both are together if not, in love."

Erestor stills. The elf now turns his attention completely to the old hobbit. His silvery green eyes sharp and cold. Bilbo sees. This is not just any elf before him, but one who has seen far more bloodshed and violence, loss and sorrow, than a mere hobbit.

Yet Bilbo Baggins, previously of the Shire and of Bag End, is unfazed by this stern ellon's gaze. For nothing will ever compare to the cold eyes of stone glazed in cold molten gold. Not even the great piercing stare of an evil fire drake that towered over a gentlehobbit of the Shire. All the dreadful and cruel things, and all bearing the promises of fire and death.

"And what would you know of love, Master Bilbo?" The words are delivered quietly, piercing sharp like blades. Though not with disdain, but with cautious care. A true politician.

"I know because I had loved once, Lord Councillor." Bilbo leans his chin on his hand and gives a tired smile, slowly turning to stare into the fiery glow of the fire in the hall instead. As if the flames are burning him with old memories with snarls of wargs and the silhouette of the Pale Orc looming ahead. Of dragon fire and dwarrow leading a charge. Of a King fighting to the bitter end.

Of a beloved sitting close by his side in the quiet of night by the lake over the autumn moonlight.Warm, gentle hands beside his own.

"Love, I did." Bilbo continues to smile wistfully, reaching for those beloved memories that have kept calling out to him at long last, "And I will never again, at least until I find the Halls of Mahal."

Erestor turns fully now towards his companion, and Bilbo can feel the elf watching him with an unreadable gaze. Before he hears the shuffling of pages and a book being closed.

The laughter of men and elves resounds.

"Did they not know?"

"No.No... I never told him, even at the very end. Out of foolish hopes and denial I suppose. Afterall, what is a simple hobbit hoping to do, standing next to a King who bears a great legacy?" Bilbo lets out a helpless laugh as he wills the prickling in his eyes away.

"And why should a hobbit who bested a dragon not stand beside a King?" Erestor pushes on, seeking to understand the dilemma.

"Then why should two elven Lords of a great realm and esteem standing not be together in all sense of the word?" Bilbo counters.

There is no proper response as the two stare at the other, while the merry making crowd continues to sing.

"Its not that simple." Erestor finally whispers as he turns his eyes towards the dancing fire, where the soldiers are dancing to the beat. It was barely loud enough for Bilbo to catch on.

"Not if you keep overcomplicating it? To be alive, to be able eat and to drink and cheer and to feel the grass and stone beneath your toes with someone by your side... why worry about uncertain sorrow you have made for yourself?" Bilbo replies, before going on softly.

"Far better be it to love with your all now, even just once, then to regret what may be when its all too late. Time waits for no one, not even immortals."

The old adventurer stands, pushing away the plate of snacks to the elf and gives a slight nod, taking his leave. Erestor's eyes linger on, following the old hobbit as he walks away as laughter echoes on into the quiet of the night.

---

After he retires back into his room, Bilbo sits at his hobbit sized desk, watching Earendil glowing high above Rivendell.

Time is cruel. Time is fickle. But time will not stop him from meeting the One he loves again at the end of this winding road. Until then...he will not forget the gift he has been granted, walking out of his round green door.

The hobbit turns and looks at the crimson red leather journal in the corner of his desk. Old wrinkled fingers trailing along, tracing the texture of its leather cover. The bright laughter of two princes echoes in his mind with old friends, with the deep tenor of a beloved singing of home.

Bilbo dips a quill into ink as he begins to write.

---

A/N: When all else fails, always trust your resident Hobbit who has yet to address his deep PTSD.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)(Part 5) (Part 6)

#the hobbit #the lord of the rings #the silmarillion #bilbo baggins #glorfindel #erestor #elrond #elrohir and elladan #elves of imladris #bagginshield #glorestor #bilbo has alot to unpack imo #erestor too

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