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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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Ghost of Christmas Past

[Ghost x Reader]

Warnings: Implications of Ghost’s past (spoilers, in a way), fluff, FLUFF, angst for maybe 3 seconds (very brief), Reader being the best™ gift giver ever, Ghost being a little jealous, implications of romance, no pronouns used for reader except ‘You’.

Wordcount: 1,892

Summary: You try to get everyone into the Christmas spirit and show your love and appreciation, but not everyone seems willing to enjoy the festivities...

You stood watching everyone watching you, a comically large smile making your cheeks ache. Beside you sat a bag, woven with a stiff material and bulging in certain areas, some sharp, some round. The common room was vaguely decorated to resemble a sliver of Christmas, some streamers hung by nails and a wall hanging of reindeer.

"So?" Alejandro said, arms crossed over his chest and a smile threatening to break out across his face. "What did you call us all here for?"

"Good question, my shiny-haired friend!" Alejandro smoothed back his hair, a smug look crossing his features. You wanted to build suspense. You eyed everyone, gaze shifting from soldier to soldier, friend to friend. At the very edge of your vision loomed a figure who hadn't spoken all day. Your eyes passed over him, his stare, holding it there before flitting away.

"Come on, (Y/N)!" wailed Soap, throwing his hands up in the air. "Tell us what's going on! It's obviously something to do with that sack you bloody well made me carry here since you couldn't do it yourself."

His tone was joking, but what he said wasn’t a joke; he and everyone else already had a delighted suspicion that what lay in your bag was a rare delicacy in the force.

Presents.

You couldn't hold it for much longer. You cracked.

"Alright, alright! You win," You bent down and opened the sack, keeping the mouth wide open. Taking a step back you looked expectantly at everyone.

The boys just looked at each other, seeming to exchange their uncertainty. You sighed loudly, reached into the sack and withdrew a brightly-coloured something coated in wrapping paper. "They're gifts!" You said, making an excited motion with your free hand. "For you!"

Some went slack-jawed, followed by cheers and ‘thank you’s, a swarm of large men encircling you. Others showed stoic appreciation with a brief hum and a barely-contained smile (Price).

Despite their shadows encapsulating you, the room felt brighter, light. Cheery. Someone ruffled your hair, another picked you up and twirled you in their arms. When you regained your footing and the room stopped spinning, you smiled. Then faltered as you noticed a shadow of a man still sticking to the wall, not having moved since everyone first arrived.

"They're all marked with nametags so don't go opening anyone else's presents!" you called back to the group, trying not to let Ghost’s dark stare freeze you or your Christmas spirit.

"Presents - plural?" John's soft accent piqued, showcasing a childlike excitement usually stamped out by the very foundations the likes that the 141 worked for.

You nodded, and the room seemed to brighten more.

"And this is why you're my favourite soldier," said Price, patting your shoulder.

"Aw, that's not fair," said Gaz, smirking. "I thought I was your favourite."

"That was before (Y/N) showed some initiative."

Between the conversations, the rustling of wrapping paper, the passing of gifts, Ghost's silence drew you to him. The complete vacancy of his presence was...eerie compared to the joviality filling the room. You looked at each other, gaze interlocked, unable to look away. You offered him a smile, your heart pounding as it always did when Ghost was near.

The sound of tearing paper drew your attention away from him. Tailing it was a gasp.

There stood Alejandro, mouth agape and eyes wide with wonder. In his hands lay a jumper. But not just any jumper.

"This is-"

"A genuine, signed, 1986 limited edition The Who concert jumper ," you finished. You'd hand-picked each and every present, tracked them down and emptied your bank account to ensure that they came to the right people, their true forever homes.

Alejandro didn't say anything - couldn't say anything. He took broad steps towards you and threw his arms around you, pulling you tight against him. Warmth spread through you, filling you. You felt like a lava lamp long after Alejandro pulled away and pressed a soft kiss to your hair.

It might have been your imagination, but you swore you could see Ghost's grip on his forearms tighten, the fabric of the sleeve bunching.

After seeing how made up Alejandro was with his gift, everyone else tore into theirs. A wave of gasps and proclamations of "Just what I've always wanted!" and “Where did you get this?!”, followed by more ‘thank you’s and hugs filled the room. Soap got a vintage hardback collector's edition of Dracula, Gaz received a candyfloss maker (which he seemed marginally embarrassed about yet entirely grateful for), and Price, shocking no-one, received combat boots. Steel-toed, banned in 93 countries, super grip, compartmentalised combat boots. You showed him the secret sections in the heel and wherever else, perfect for hiding whatever suited him at the time.

The room buzzed with ecstaticity.

"Ghost!" Soap called, "Come and 'ave a look!"

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

Oh no.

Ghost shifted, pushing off the wall and taking slow steps towards the sack. The room quietened as he drew closer, watching expectantly with bated breath. The reveal of the present would be an indicator of Ghost's nature, his wants and desires.

Or, that was what everyone thought would happen. Everyone but you.

Ghost's eyes remained half-lidded, as if he were trying to hide something behind the guise of disinterest. He peered over the lip of the sack. His demeanour didn't change.

There was nothing left inside.

When it became clear that Ghost wasn't reaching inside not out of stage fright but out of a sheer lack of need to, everyone turned to look at you. Rather than displeasement or anger, there was...confusion?

You looked at Ghost, not wanting to face the crowd behind you. But that made it no easier to face the behemoth before you. His eyes almost didn't meet yours. He was unreadable and unequivocally terrifying.

The room tensed, air thickening like lard. You had to cut the silence. Act now.

"Ghost," you squeaked, voice thin and weak. "Step outside with me for a minute, please?"

After what may have been deliberation, he gave a slight nod, and with you power-walking ahead and throwing open the door, followed behind.

He wouldn't admit it, but he felt embarrassed. He hadn't expected to receive any gifts this year, as he'd never received one any other year, but something about being excluded made something in him stir. Uncomfortably.

His childhood had been a piss-poor one, each Christmas a punishment rather than a time for celebration, a reminder that he had nothing while every other child had something whether it be gifts, love, or just a family.

The door closed behind him, drawing him from his contemplation. His hulking form cast a long shadow over you. You swallowed thickly, then turned to look at him.

"I-"

"Did I upset you."

Ghost's question (or statement), oddly genuine, took you off-guard.

"N-no!" you said.

"Then what inspired you to display your disliking of me so publicly." This wasn't a question. It was an interrogation.

"Ghost, you've done nothing to upset me." You wafted your hands in front of you as if trying to clear the tension thickening around you, suffocating you.

"Then explain that little stunt of yours-"

"I'm trying!" Your voice came out much louder than you'd wanted it to and you knew that the boys had heard it, too. You cleared your throat and looked down.

"Sorry," you mumbled. You reached behind you and, from beneath your shirt, you withdrew a package. It was neatly wrapped as all the others were, but this one was different. It had ribbon tied around it, creating a neat little bow at the peak. An envelope was held against the present by the ribbon.

"This is for you," you said, quietly. Your eyes flitted from Ghost's eyes, trying to gauge his reaction, to the present, scanning it for imperfections.

Too late to turn back now.

"I didn't want it getting squished or hurt by the other presents, so I kept it safe with me."

Ghost said nothing for a moment. Then: "You've had that up your shirt all day?"

He wouldn't admit it, but the urge to hold the package, to feel your phantom warmth radiating from it, flashed in his mind.

You nodded, swallowing.

"I didn't want to embarrass you by having everyone else asking you questions about..." you motioned with the package.

You held it out to Ghost, the weight of all it implicated too much for you to bear anymore. Your face burned under Ghost's gaze and silent judgement.

He seemed to hesitate, or rather made no attempt to retrieve the gift he was not yet certain was truly for him. Was this some cruel joke? The second chapter of a novel of cruelties you had bestowed upon him as his true gift?

You gulped, then decided to take some initiative, as Price had said. You reached for Ghost's hand and slipped the package into it.

“I didn’t get you anything.” Ghost said. It came out before he could stop it, as if dissuading you from giving him the gift. You just smiled.

“Doesn’t matter.” You folded your hands behind your back. “Merry Christmas, my favourite ghoul.” You cast Ghost one last soulful, smiling look before retreating into the common room, shutting the door behind you.

Your scent followed, vaguely tingling in Ghost's nose, just permeating the fibres of his mask.

He looked down at the package in his hands. It felt soft, malleable. Curiosity nipped at him, a branch of hope, something Ghost had long since assumed to be dead alongside the rest of him.

With mechanical hands, he pulled on one of the ends of the bow, watching the ribbon unfurl. He kept ahold of the card in one hand and undressed the package.

Soft material lay amongst the second skin. Upon closer inspection, Ghost saw that they were gloves. He moved onto the card. His breath caught in his throat as he read it.

To Ghost,

I remember you saying that your hands always got "bastarding cold" during missions, so I wanted to try and stop you complaining all the time, hahaha (I'm joking)!

Anyway, I took up three months' worth of crocheting classes to make these, so I hope you'll find some use for them!

Thank you for always looking out for me us,

Merry Christmas!

Love From (Y/N) x

Ghost looked over his shoulder, expecting you to be there. When he saw he was truly alone, he allowed the warmth exploding in his chest to hold his cheeks as he imagined you would, your hands soft and warm.

The icy loneliness of the Christmases he'd endured every year before now felt a little less daunting, the phantoms of his past unable to penetrate the shield you'd cast around him.

The human touches, the love and consideration you'd poured into these gloves, was palpable, as if you would be holding his hand every time he wore them. And every time he would wear them, he'd hear you, see you, feel you with him, soothing him in a way nothing and no-one else ever had.

Ghost re-entered the room soon after that. And beneath his heavy-duty, military-issue gloves, were yours, warm and snug against his skin, flesh beneath his shell.

Your eyes caught his, a shock of electricity fired between you. Something unspoken, but budding.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

I made the collage for the post, but I don't own the pictures (screaming and crying)

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #cod ghost x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 fanfic #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 ghost #cod mw2

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therizino-ao3 · 6 months

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2023 Halloween Gift Exchange

My gift for @greenscreen-dress for @mcyt-halloween !

Summary: xB is invited back to his home server for a ceremony. Joe and Cleo come along to make things more bearable.

“Ohh, son of a…”

“What is it, man?” says Cub, sliding over to xB to see what he’s reading on his communicator.

“It’s just a family thing, kind of annoying though,” he scrolls through the message, taking in the details. Cub glances at it, but looks away as soon as he realises this isn’t something he’ll understand.

“What sort of family thing?” Gem asks, from across the Decked Out hallway, where she and Cleo are doing… something. xB doesn’t know what it is, but it involves wooden swords and their decks on the floor and an armour stand that he thinks is supposed to be Tango? They used a blue bath-towel instead of a robe.

“Guardian coming of age ritual, involving one of my cousins,” he sighs, flicking his tail back and forth, “The point is I’ll have to go back to my family’s server and meet everyone and it’s going to be a whole Thing.”

“I mean, xB, if you don’t want to do it, just don’t go? If you don’t like your biological family, you shouldn’t feel obligated to visit them,” Cleo says, messing with the Tango armour stand as they speak.

“I like some of my family. Not all of them are bad. But yeah it’s, mm,” he purses his lips together, thinking of what to say, “I do want to stay in contact, but as long as I do that, they’ll expect me to go to coming of age rituals. And it isn’t that bad on it’s own but some of them are just very… traditional. And judgemental. But, it isn’t the end of the world? It’s just… a Thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get that. The Vex sometimes can sometimes be, uh, very overbearing,” Cub says, from his spot, crammed into an indent in the wall.

“Hm, yeah,” Cleo pauses, either pondering what she should say or whether she should stab the Tango armour stand, “Maybe, if you want, one of us could come with you? Just to make the whole thing more bearable. I wouldn’t mind. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guardian city in-person before.”

“Yeah, that actually sounds like a good idea,” Cleo’s presence is calming - in a no-nonsense, sarcastic way. The only time he’s ever brought someone with him to his home server was Keralis, ages ago on a holiday, which looking back on, was a horrible decision. Cleo, however, he thinks is far more mature than Keralis, and will only steal people’s possessions if necessary, “I mean, will you be free this Saturday afternoon?”

She smiles.

World hopping has developed a lot over the past century, which is nice. xB remembers when a trip across a galaxy would take a few weeks, but now, it’s only a few hours. It’s incredibly convenient since, in true hermit fashion, they always choose very distant planets for their worlds. His ship’s on autopilot and the estimated arrival time is two hours, fifteen minutes. He can chill. He watches the little map on the GUI, the ship zooming past various named star systems. His passengers, behind him, are also chilling. Passengers, plural, because Cleo wanted to drag Joe along too. Which, wasn’t the plan, but xB couldn’t say he was too surprised when Cleo and Joe both showed up to his ship. Like, you can’t get one without the other. They’re sold as a pair. He hears them arguing, something about the difference between a gravestone and a cenotaph. Cleo says they’ll break Joe’s legs. Joe starts talking faster, pleading for his life.

At the very least, xB’s home world is beautiful. As they approach it at last, it turns from a perfect blue circle to a painter’s dream – miles and miles of beaches and sea. There’s no considerable landmass on it greater than a few square miles, and all that’s on those are ship docks and tourism centres, everything else is in the water. He parks, opens the doors, and breathes in the salty sea air. It burns his nose, but in a refreshing and nostalgic way.

“We’re here! In case you haven’t noticed,” he says, but he knows they have, especially since Joe has spent the last twenty minutes trying to take pictures of the planet through the tiny windows.

“Oh wow,” Cleo steps out, “I will say, in terms of places to visit, this certainly isn’t the worst for looks.”

Joe steps out after, running out a bit further to take pictures of the sea. xB giggles, “Now the question is, will your opinion change when you meet the family.”

“Oh gods yeah, that’s gonna be, uh,” she laughs and shakes her head, “Well, we’ll be here for you, xB. And on that note, what is our story going to be?”

“Our story?”

“Yeah, like, why we’re here with you. Are we just saying we’re friends coming along because we wanted to visit?” Cleo pauses, before gasping, “Oh! I could pretend to be your annoying girlfriend! That would be fun.”

“Hey now, if you’re xB’s partner, what would that make me?”

“Oh Joe, you can be with xB too. I’m sure we can share him,” she ruffles Joe’s hair, “I mean, if you’re alright with that, xB.”

“No, no, that’s fine,” he’s laughing, “That does sound interesting.”

Whilst Cleo and Joe are arguing about the details of their very real relationship with xB, he is busy sorting out actually important things, like how Cleo and Joe are going to get to the monument. Every urban area has conduit-powered water, but for such a deep and lengthy swim, they’re still going to need equipment. He’s packed hour-lasting water breathing and resistance potions, to reduce any issues with suffocation and pressure; specialist helmets with goggles for seeing in dark environments, enchanted with aqua-infinity, and with built-in translation software so they can both understand and speak water-tongue; and flip-flops enchanted with depth strider for easy movement. It takes a further ten minutes for xB to get them to properly equip the stuff and acclimatise to breathing in the water. Then, they’re ready to go.

xB leads them down, following the currents to the monument. It’s mainly a smell thing, because the monument is the most populated thing in this area of the ocean, and you can definitely tell, but he also knows the way off by heart.

“Alright, just checking you can hear me alright?” he asks in water-tongue – a deep, chittering language that works solely for water – now they’re a decent bit down it’s worth checking Joe and Cleo actually know what’s going on.

Cleo gives a thumbs up, whilst Joe responds, “Loud and clear!” through the robotic voice from the helmet. It sounds a little crunchy. xB wonders if that’s it struggling to translate Joe’s accent.

They keep swimming down, until the monument leers in front of them. It’s far more impressive than the ones inhabited by regular guardians, with this one being twice the size with twice the colours and covered in flickering neon lights. He feels Joe and Cleo stop, presumably looking on in wonder. He supposes it’s pretty impressive if it’s your first time seeing one, but given he’s spent too many years living there, and has seen some five times more impressive in bigger cities, it’s just a regular building to him. They start swimming again, xB careful to keep the three of them in the “incoming” current. Small settlements and businesses rest on the seafloor below them, branching out around the monument, but most people will be living inside it.

They take the top entrance, xB telling the guards they’re here for tessC Crafted’s ceremony and the three of them are let in without trouble.

“The guards are more for display, than anything,” he says to Joe and Cleo once they’re inside the monument and alone in the winding corridors, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them refuse anyone in, they just deter criminals by being there.”

“Right,” Cleo says, glancing around, “Good to know! I’ll just be staying right by you, so I don’t get lost, because this place is an absolute maze.”

“Yeah, I mean, yeah,” he laughs, “There’s no structure, you just learn where everything is by living here.”

“So where are we going now?” Joe asks.

“The main hall, it’s got like, a big platform in the centre and a bunch of seats,” he takes a sudden left turn, making Joe and Cleo quickly swerve after him, “You just kind of wander around and talk to people, and then everyone sits down, and the ceremony begins.”

“So, it’s like a wedding?” Cleo says, slight uncertainty in her voice.

“Um, I guess?” xB says, about to elaborate further, before the hallway opens up into a massive chamber. Several rows of flat seats wrap in a horseshoe shape around a long walkway, raised several metres above the seats nearest, leading into the back of the wall where there’s a door for the ceremony participants to emerge.

The noise is the most prominent thing, chittering bouncing off the walls and coming back in an incoherent blabble. He imagines Joe and Cleo won’t even be hearing this, it’s so indecipherable the software won’t bother to translate it. It’s no surprise it’s so loud, with hundreds of people in here. Technically, its only mandatory that the family of the person involved come, but everyone living nearby tends to, both as an act of community support and because free food is served throughout. Since xB is family, they’ll be right at the front on the bottom seats. He leads his friends down there, picking out a free-ish spot for them. With less people being at the bottom of the hall, it’s easier to hear things.

“Why, xB, you came,” a voice booms from behind him, belonging to none other than his biological mother. Great.

“Uh, hello. Joe, Cleo, this is my mother, beK Crafted,” he grabs his friends’ arms, making sure they’re here for this conversation, “And, mother,” he pauses for a second, wondering if he really wants to go this route, before remembering he has no fucks to give, “This is my girlfriend Cleo, and her partner Joe.”

“Oh, don’t be so humble, my Angel Pie xB! Joe is your boyfriend too!” for good measure, she even ruffles his hair as they say it, and it takes everything he has in him to not burst out laughing. She turns to his mother, holding out her hand, “Hi! I’m Cleo! I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Right,” his mother tentatively shakes Cleo’s hand, looking down on it like she might catch a disease. This is going far better than xB ever imagined.

“I – on the other hand – have heard nothing about you! xB has never mentioned you to me! This is a wonderful night to meet!” Joe says, grabbing his mother’s other hand to shake at the same time. He’s doing it far too fast, jerking her arm up and down.

His mother wrinkles her nose and steps back, flicking the hands off her, “Right. It’s good that you’re here and that you’ve-” she does nothing to hide the disappointment in her tone, “Brought some other people around. Make sure to introduce yourself to everybody, I’m sure your uncle rK would love to see you.”

His mother quickly swims away, to nearly the other side of the hall.

Cleo turns to him, “Was that a success?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. Usually she goes on super long rants to me, or brings up about when I’ll be having grandkids, so it’s nice to have skipped all that.”

“Oh geez, are you sure you want to come to these things?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I don’t take any of it to heart, it’s just annoying,” they both nod, but still look rather unconvinced.

They continue talking to xB’s other family members, in a way that has made this kind of thing far more enjoyable than it has been in a long time, with everyone reacting to Cleo’s ridiculous pet names with either obvious distress or approval, some even finding her charming, somehow. It’s nice to be able to catch up with his more reasonable family members, and anyone annoying Joe scares off with his passionate talks of eighteenth-century poetry. They have a good time.

The lights begin to dim and xB ushers Joe and Cleo to sit. Whilst the rest of the chamber grows dark, the walkway lights up and the door slides open. Stumbling and shambling, xB’s cousin emerges and makes the harrowing walk to the end of the platform. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was sick: desaturated skin, tattered fins, and dead eyes. It’s obvious she’s just about to undergo metamorphosis though, with her juvenile external fins fluttering in the water.

She collapses as soon as she reaches the spot, body completely relaxing until she looks like a ragdoll. Some soft tearing sounds echo through the water.

“What’s going on?” Cleo whispers to him.

“She’s about to grow into her new body,” he says,” Just… watch.”

Cleo turns back to tessC, transfixed. At her back, a new, pale growth emerges from the ripped skin. It grows and grows, until it becomes evident it is, in fact, her back, and her arms and legs come with it too. She’s covered in spines and the tail that forces itself out of the body is far longer than it once was. Eventually, her head frees itself too, and there are no signs of the external fins anymore. She pushes herself onto her feet and makes a noise, somewhat like a growl, triumphant over her old body. Her limbs still look so wobbly and crooked and her tail hasn’t quite filled itself out yet, it’ll take a few hours for her new self to settle into shape.

“Oh wow,” Joe murmurs, “I didn’t know guardians did that.”

“Yeah, metamorphosis into adult form,” xB says, looking around for the elders, “I remember mine. It really hurt. They’ll just need to choose the sacrifice and then we should be done.”

“Hold on, sacrifice?” Cleo whips her head around.

“Yeah? After someone sheds their skin, another person is chosen for them to test their claws on. Like, they don’t die, most of the time, but it is pretty brutal.”

“That, feels like something you should have mentioned before coming here? Some guy just gets ripped to shreds every time this happens?”

“I- Oh yeah. It completely slipped my mind. Um, if it makes you feel better, you won’t get picked? They won’t have your name down, it’ll just be me. And in all my years, I’ve never been picked, it’s really unlikely.”

The elders, on a balcony looking over everything, read out from a piece of paper, “This year’s sacrifice shall be… xB Crafted!”

Joe hums, “Wow, way to jinx things!”

Cleo grabs his arm, “Yeah, no way am I letting you get hurt because of these idiots, come on!” she tugs him upward, kicking as much as she can.

xB doesn’t falter, the survivalist in him knowing he has to escape now if he wants a chance. He snatches Joe’s hand and starts swimming, thrashing his tail as hard as he can. He can feel the water ripple around him, others trying to catch up to them and catch them, you weren’t really supposed to try and escape, and all. He couldn’t bring his usual guns, being under the water and all, but he does have a rather nice harpoon gun, however, he doesn’t really want to attack his family members and former friends unless he has to. Cleo, on the other hand, managed to smuggle in her sword and doesn’t hold back swinging at people in her way. They escape the great hall, diving into the corridors, and xB takes special care to not let go of Joe or Cleo as he takes twisting routes to cover their tail. They zoom out a small, unguarded exit xB discovered himself many years ago, near the bottom of the monument. He doesn’t dare slow their pace, charging through the water, practically carrying a panting Joe and Cleo, until they reach the island they landed on.

“We’re out,” he says, flopping onto the surface, “Don’t bother to take your stuff off now, just hop in and I’ll take off. They’ll give up pursuit once we leave the surface.”

They both nod in response and xB hops inside, fiddling with the controls and inputting the co-ordinates of their Season 8 planet. Thankfully, they take off with no issues.

“xB,” Joe says as soon as he’s got his helmet off, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… fine.”

“Really?” Joe tries to raise an eyebrow, but he can’t, so he just makes a weird face.

“Yeah, well, a little sad,” he admits, “I definitely won’t be able to return now. I mean, I know it’s probably for the best? But, like, there’s still that feeling that I’ve lost something, y’know?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Joe isn’t following the correct safety protocols for space travel, instead opting to stand behind xB and rest his hand on his shoulder.

“Just remember that we’ll always be here for you, alright?” Cleo says and the thought does cheer him up, because they’re right. He’ll give himself a little time to grieve, but really, there isn’t anything those stuck-up guardian folk could’ve given him that his friends can’t. He probably had more fun today, because of Joe and Cleo, than he has had in every other family gathering combined. He hears Joe recount some lines from a classic and Cleo groans, and, well, maybe it isn’t beautiful blue planet with gorgeous underwater cities, but it still makes him pretty happy.

#happy halloween!#I went very heavy on the worldbuilding on this one. but I figured you'd like that?#whilst I like the creativity of it personally I don't tend to like settings where they're explicitly in a video game #so its a bit sci-fi (Ren's hermethius planet travelling lore) and a bit fantasy (potions and enchantments and hybrids)#I also put a decent bit of thought into the guardian hybrid naming constructs!#you have the prefix (given name. lowercase) and the suffix (“dominant”/older parent's first initial. uppercase) of the first name #and the last name is the “family name”. Families being decently large groups of all vaguely related people #prefixes tend to range between 1-4 letters #more thoughts would be here but I am TIRED #uh. can I post this to ao3? If you're okay with that ofc! if you have an account there let me know I'll do it as a gift #therizino writes #mcyt halloween #hermitcraft fic #hermitcraft #xbcrafted #zombie cleo #joe hills

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zweetpea · 4 months

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Gender Neutral Reader

Short blurb/Drabble thing

Giving gifts is hard. It’s even harder when you want to get them for the man who has everything. Simple, you’ll make him something.

“Happy holidays, Honey!”you greet him on the morning of your gift exchange. “I didn’t know what to buy you so I just made you some Kartoshka.”

He smiles and kisses your forehead. “Thank you darling! I’m so sorry, the delivery men have gotten trapped in the storm so they’ll be a bit late with your presents.”

“Presents, as in plural? You didn’t have to get me so much. I’ll feel bad that I only got you this.”

He picks you up and holds you. “Darling, I have you. That’s a gift no one else can ever have.” Your face grows hot at his actions. He just carries you to his couch and you two cuddle.

“Wow! This tree is so pretty!” Little cheeps come from the branches as a bird flutters out.

“I know how much you like birds, so I got you a partridge and he wouldn’t leave the pear tree, so I just took it.”

“This is wonderful. Thank you.” You smile and lean up to kiss his lips.

——

The next morning during breakfast two turtle doves flew into the dining room and landed on your shoulders.

“Ah they’re here. Do you like them, love?” Your boyfriend walks over to you.

“What am I supposed to do with them?”

“You may do whatever you please. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

——

The third day of the storm you were play with your new pets in the greenhouse when three new birds rush in from the main house.

“Three hens? I know I love birds but I’m starting to feel like he’s spoiling me.”

——

The next morning you were in bed snuggling with your boyfriend when four colly birds fly into your lap and wake the two of you up.

“Are you kidding me?” He groans.

“Another one of your gifts?” You giggle.

“They were supposed to go to the sanctuary, I suppose that new order wasn’t able to be processed with the storm.”

You shift yourself into his lap and kiss him deeply. “You’re too sweet to me.”

——

The day after you and your wonderful boyfriend were cuddling by the fire in his study when he just suddenly asks you something.

“Wanna get married?”

“Huh?”

“I’ve been thinking about marrying you for a while now, my plans for a proper proposal have flown out the window so I might as well just ask. Wanna get married?”

“I’d love to.” You smile and kiss him so passionately.

——

The storm had stopped so he took you down to the sanctuary where your new birds were staying.

“Everything in here is yours.” He told you.

“Everyone move! We got eight pregnant geese and we need to get these eggs out!” One of the workers rushed.

“Eight geese? And they’re all laying eggs?” You ask shocked.

“How did they even get pregnant? I didn’t have any males around them, I don’t think.” Your Fiancé freaks out.

“I think it’s wonderful. I’m just surprised by it.”

——

“Thank you for taking me back here. I know we just came here yesterday but I want to make sure that those geese are okay.”

“Of course my love.”

Along with the six geese there were now seven swans.

“Oh good they’re here too.”

“You even got me swans?”

“Mhm. I didn’t want to get too much, because I didn’t want to scare you away. I’ll get more for you next year I promise.”

“No, really it’s okay.”

——

The day after, you were called into your fiancé’s office.

“Now that we’re going to be married, I want you to have your own staff. Please choose any eight of the many I have lined up for interviews today.”

“Huh?” He sits you down and leaves you with the head butler.

——

Over the next four days you and your fiancé planed a ball to announce your engagement. There were 9 percussionists and 10 woodwinds.

And over the course of the night of the ball 11 couples came over to congratulate the two of you.

And at the end of the night it was just you, a regular civilian, dancing with your true love, a man wealthy enough to give you the world.

“The best present you’ve given me is your heart.” You smile at him, kissing him lovingly on the lips.

(This was meant for Pantalone but can work with any rich man)

(Based on the song 12 days of Christmas, so he’s the 12th lord a leaping)

#pantalone x reader #pantalone #pantalone x you #pantalone fluff #pantalone genshin #pantalone x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin pantalone #genshin pantalone x reader

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frecklenog · 4 months

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after spending an evening listening to jessie gender tell me about starfield, capitalism, gender, selfhood, and ursula k leguin, i had. some Thoughts about another science fiction series; one you're probably at least somewhat familiar with if you follow this blog or watch ms gender's videos.

to start off; hey. this is partially based on my own experiences, my understanding of them, and how that lens can be applied to star trek. it's also very much inspired by the work of jessie earl, whose channel i can't recommend enough. she's funny, intelligent, kind, and an incredibly gifted writer, and she's a gift to both the star trek, trans, and "video essay youtuber" communities. show her some love!

that said, i want to start by looking at star trek. we all know the vulcans, don't we? pointy ears, green blood — spock's dad's side of the family. gifted with telepathic abilities, vulcans are practitioners of the mind meld, also called things like a mind link, probe, touch, or fusion, which is exactly what it sounds like. it allows two (or more, on occasion) sentient life forms to exchange thoughts as though they were one being.

of course, this kind of thing is common in media. steven universe has gem fusions, which should be examined from a plural viewpoint in their own right. x-man charles xavier almost routinely delves into the minds of others. but rarely does it have any lasting impact on the characters. even star trek itself falls into this, with doctor leonard mccoy not getting nearly enough screentime in the voyage home to show off what must have been the intensely strange experience of carrying spock's katra within him. (maybe that's addressed in a novelization or comic that i'm just unaware of, but regardless, i haven't seen it, and i think that's a travesty. (and if you know of a book where that gets touched on oh my god give me the fucking link now-))

there are instances of star trek mind melds having lasting effects, as discovery shows part of sarek's katra being permanently linked to michael burnham, though that could be considered an extenuating circumstance, what with her being on death's doorstep at the time of the meld. which most trek fans probably already know, and is honestly more fantastical than i care to bother reading with a plural lens. however, star trek is a fandom with nearly sixty years of history, including hundreds of books and comics from various authors and publishers. these stories are plentiful, bizzare, and sometimes outright terribly written. i don't blame anyone for not having read them all — to do so seems like a terrifying task.

but the one i want to look at right now is a particular run of the star trek: the next generation comic, published in 2000 by wildstorm comics.

the run is called perchance to dream — a lovely, flourishing name for a comic where half of the plot could be it's very own jessie gender video for how much sexual weirdness goes on (but i'll leave that to the professionals). the part we're going to focus on is that the b-plot of the run surrounds captain jean luc picard, captain of the uss enterprise-d. the comic is set after the events of the star trek: the next generation season 3 premiere, best of both worlds: part 2. in that episode, the captain had been disconnected from the borg hivemind (after being assimilated in part 1), and he returned to duty as usual at the end of the episode (though he does choose to go on leave in the following episode). it's also set after another episode from later on in season 3, — episode 23, sarek, wherein picard preformed a mind meld with sarek in order to allow the aging ambassador better emotional control, as it was being ravaged by his bendii syndrome — essentially, vulcan dementia.

the a-plot of the run isn't really important to us, i'm afraid — although it reveals to us in the second issue that worf accidentally killed a kid on another soccer team as a child. suffice to say, one of the abilities of the aliens the crew has to play diplomacy with is that they can prod into people's traumas through their nightmares. they have a lot going on. it's a comic book from 2000, what did you expect?

and, speaking of things that are easily dated, the third issue of the run brings us to the second part of today's topic.

image id: a comic book page. beginning at the top, a narration box reads: "chief medical officer's log, stardate 48503.8. lieutenant commander data, doctor selar, and i have gone through the damiano [alien] records regarding the chova. while no direct way to combat the weapon was ever developed we have discovered that certain people were immune to the chova's effects and could destroy the weapon." doctor beverly crusher is beside the narration box, depicted from the shoulders up, facing slightly to the right and saying "there has to be another way." a vulcan -- doctor selar -- is viewed from the waist up, holding a padd in her right hand and facing to the right of the page. she is saying "we have been over the records six times a piece, doctor. if there is anything to find, it is likely that we would have found it by now." data, an android designed to appear as a human with pale yellow plastic skin, is holding a book slightly behind doctor selar. his mouth is slightly open as he speaks. "i believe doctor selar is correct. this is the only course of action open to us under the circumstances." to the right of this panel is another shot of beverly from the shoulders up, this time facing to the left. her expression is stern as she says "i know, i know, it's just-- it could kill him." in the next panel. beverly is shown from the back, and captain jean-luc picard enters, saying "you sent for me, doctor?" beverly responds, "yes, jean-luc. please sit down." below this, the left panel takes most of the remaining page. this time we see captain picard from the back, while beverly faces the reader head-on, speaking first. "we've gone through the records chief du're [irrelevant one-off character from the a-plot] provided. it turns out that there was one group of people who were immune to the chova when it was first used. mpd's." jean-luc repeats "mpd's?" curiously. to the right, data is shown from the shoulders up, saying; "mpd stands for multiple personality disorder. mpd can come about through psycholo--" but beverly interrupts him; "not now, data." end id.

ah, multiple personality disorder. a term that hasn't been clinically used since 1994. these days, we call this dissociative identity disorder (did), but it's one dissociative disorder of many, which is what beverly is talking about. for whatever reason, people with this sort of dissociative plurality seem to be immune to the specific trauma nightmares induced by these aliens. (finally, some good news.)

okay, neat! so, dissociative disorders and plurality have been canonically addressed in star trek. let's see how it goes!

image id also available unbroken in alt text. image id pt 1: beginning in the top left corner, beverly is shown from the shoulders up, facing the right side of the page as she speaks. "the point is the people who are afflicted with more than one personality would destroy the chova before it could affect them. the chova was only built for one personality. mpds would literally overwhelm it." in the next panel, to the right, picard is shown from the chest up, partially obstructed by speech bubbles. facing right, he asks; "how does this help us?" beverly is also in this right panel, although from behind, and nearly completely obfuscated by speech bubbles. she answers; "well, mpd was never a common occurance, and it's almost unheard of these days.there've only been two cases reported in the federation in the last two hundred years -- and damiano [the alien planet] hasn't seen a case in the last fifty."beverly continues. "however, we do have someone on the enterprise who has the makings of a classic mpd. i'd like your permission to ask this person to volunteer to undergo a mind-meld with doctor selar in order to bring the submerged personalities to the fore."

this particular line, i take umbrage with, as dissociative disorders are a lot more common than people might think, and star trek has shown us a future as tumultuous as our own present for decades. there would absolutely be people experiencing some level of multiplicity in everyday life both within the federation and without. but, again, this was written in the 90s, i think? i don't know how long it takes a team of professionals to make a comic book. but, i digress.

image id pt 2: picard responds; "permission granted, as long as it remains on a volunteer basis. who is the officer in question?" below, the leftmost panel is larger than the right. beverly crusher is shown in profile, facing right, with doctor selar and data behind her from the chest and shoulders up. picard is on the right of the page, slightly smaller, but also in profile, facing right to contrast beverly as he listens to her speak. "it's someone who's been exposed to an especially intense vulcan mind-meld, who lived another life for thirty-five subjective years— and who had a second personality grafted onto his own for a brief period by the borg. the next panel takes the entire width of the page, and much of the height. picard is shown in the middle, standing in a purple void. around him are three other male characters shown in bust. from left to right, they are; kamin, a humanoid man bearing great resemblance to an older imagining of jean-luc picard, wearing a plain blue shirt. sarek, a vulcan with grey hair, a turquoise shirt, and a green stone amulet on a large gold chain around his neck. he is cast in shadow and his eyes are not visible. locutus, an ashen version of jean-luc picard, with about a third of his face obscured by black metal exoplating and implants that surround his right eye. tubes come off of his face and neck, trailing behind him, and a red light made to shine at his point of focus shines from the side of his head. there are several yellow narration boxes, which read as follows. "sarek of vulcan. picard mind-melded with the legendary ambassador in order to lend him strength for an important negotiation — an act that almost cost picard his sanity." "kamin of kataan. a probe sent out by kataan before their sun went nova allowed picard to live most of kamin's adult life as a way to remember his people."

oh, yeah. did... did i not mention that that happened?

basically, he was targeted by a device that beamed him into the world's most immersive vr game — kind of like the one from rick and morty? if you watched that? if you didn't, sorry for bringing it up, and if you did, ditto. but it forced picard to live out an entire life as though he'd been abducted by aliens and placed in a sims game. though, ultimately, the plot intricacies of the inner light are beside my point.

image id pt 3: "locutus of borg. quite simply, the greatest nightmare of picard's entire life. the subversion of his intellect, his will, his very self to the collective of the borg." "all three are part of him, but they do not dominate. if picard does as doctor crusher suggests, he will subsume himself in order to let the others come to the fore. for sarek, for kamin, he would be willing." "but locutus--?" the next panel takes a little more than half of the remainder of the page. a narration box in the upper left reads; "then he thinks of his first officer, counselor, chief of security, chief engineer, and all the others who have fallen victim to this vicious weapon." the rest of the panel shows two sleeping figures, both humanoid, in what is presumably sickbay. the last panel takes the remainder. a narration box in the upper left reads; "and jean-luc picard makes the only decision he is capable of making." captain picard is shown from the shoulders up, facing slightly to the left and saying; "what do i need to do?" below his speech bubble is another yellow text box, which reads "to be concluded..."

...which is how issue 3 leaves us.

fortunately, we can pick up in issue 4 with ease, since these comics are over twenty years old. i'm going to do my best to limit my use of comic pages, juuuuust in case, but once we reach the sixth page, with the credits...

image id: a two-page spread. beginning in the uppermost left corner, narration boxes read; "welcome to the mind of jean-luc picard." "'locutus' was a personality superimposed upon picard when he was taken by the borg, meant to serve as the spokesperson for that cybernetic race's ruthless assimilation of what they described as the 'authority-driven culture' of the federation." "ambassador sarek of vulcan suffered from bendii syndrome. in order to keep the effects of this devastating illness from endangering his final mission, sarek entered into a deep mind-meld with picard in order to give the ambassador emotional control and stability." "kamin was a prominent member of the community of ressik on the long-dead world of kataan. a probe sent by the kataan people allowed picard to live kamin's life for several subjective decades, although less than half an hour passed in reality." "all of these personalities have made up a part of jean-luc picard, but he remained dominant." "until now." "this is the mind of jean-luc picard." the left page is mostly taken up by a large illustration of locutus, drawn in far more detail than before. trailing off to the right are two tubes or wires, as well as a speech bubble that reads "resistance is futile." also on this page are the details of the comic title, run, issue number, writers/artists, and copyright. taking up most of the right half of the right page is sarek of vulcan, drawn in less detail than locutus, but easily recognizable. his hair is a lighter grey, he is wearing white and cream robes and an amber amulet on a thick gold ring around his neck, and he is holding up his right hand in a vulcan salute/ta'al. depicted below sarek is kamin, drawn from the shoulders up, wearing a plain white shirt with a collar. below kamin is captain picard, also shown from the shoulders up, in his starfleet uniform, and surrounded by four lights, with two on either side of him. (there is also further copyright information beside him in fine print.)

...i'm pretty sure that this analysis falls under the "commentary" part of fair use. right?

but, regardless, this is kind of a huge thing to drop in a comic that virtually no one has bothered to read. i mean, especially when, amidst the clashing of picard's plurality with the a-plot, we get this panel;

image id: a single comic panel. kamin is shown from behind, speaking to locutus and sarek within a noneuclidean space with four circular white lights shining in the distance. "what is going on?" kamin asks. "we have been subdued for too long. but now we shall dominate, as we were meant to." locutus replies. sarek interrupts. "your logic is flawed, locutus. we are all merely aspects of jean-luc picard's mind." "you may be sarek of vulcan, but we are of the borg."

sarek is able to acknowledge himself, kamin, and locutus as "aspects" of captain picard, despite picard rarely if ever sensing them or their influence. picard is being, not just implied, but explicitly stated to have a latent form of plurality, and perchance to dream depicts it in a way that strikes true to members of my own system, at times, with certain alters first making themselves known in the front already well aware of who they are, and having existed without the my knowledge due to dissociative barriers that only came down later in life.

unfortunately, because this is a star trek media, locutus ends up assimilating kamin in the headspace and forcing himself into the front. however, as he does it, he says something that does, to an extent, resonate with the experience of being one among many, for better or worse.

image id: a single comic panel. locutus is shown facing the viewer, and his chin and the top of his head are cut off by the borders of the panel. his light breaks the plane of the panel to simulate the effect that it is shining into the "camera." locutus's mouth is open as he speaks; "for too long you have suppressed us, picard. but you are of the borg."

plurality is a defense mechanism by the brain to protect against trauma. it is, from what i have seen, more common among those who are already neurodivergent, which already presents in a myriad of ways. mixing the ugly truth of trauma with the raw reality of mental illness caused by it can result in certain alters feeling as though they are being suppressed by not being allowed to front and live their own life, depending on how the system functions. admittedly it is more common in fictional depictions of dissociative disorders for these alters to simply live their own lives in secret anyway, as is the case in the marvel tv series moon knight with marc spector, steven grant, and jake lockley (along with the other possible members of their system who may or may not be present depending on the canon, but those are the main three). but, in reality — or at least my experience — this more often translates to alters making themselves social media accounts, or using services like tupperbox or pluralkit on discord, or finding other ways to more discretely express themselves, such as icon changes or status updates.

but, getting back to star trek, this is ultimately a one-off comic. so captain picard saves the day with his secret alters, ends the mind meld with doctor selar, and goes back to living his life as a singlet, ready for the people of the future to be able to easily comprehend without having to read a very specific comic run from 2000.

...right?

image id: part of a comic page. each panel takes up roughly one quarter of the page each. in the first panel, counselor deanna troi is seen standing, having just entered captain picard's ready room. picard is shown from the back, sitting at his desk. "counselor! good to see you up and about." he greets her. "it's good to be up and about." she responds. "playing some old tunes?" [picard had been playing the ressikan flute prior to her entry.] picard responds. "mmm. i wanted to make sure that i still remembered how." in the next panel, we look over counselor troi's shoulder and across the desk at captain picard. "were you worried that you wouldn't?" she wonders. "actually, yes," picard answers. "after what happened..." the third panel shows picard facing the viewer head-on from the shoulders up. he continues, "i suppose i knew intellectually how close to the surface locutus, sarek, and kamin were. but i never really thought about it. they were — memories, experiences. no different from any other. but they're much more than that." the fourth panel shows counselor troi, facing slightly to the right as she speaks. "not much more. all three of them are part of you. but the important word is you. the fragmentation was artificially induced." picard asks; "was it?"

ultimately, yes, this is a one-off comic run that isn't very well known, and i only read because i took a personal interest in the subject matter. i knew going in that it wasn't going to fundamentally change the entire fandom's understanding of captain picard, or make the star trek fandom an instant haven for systems everywhere. but, still, captain picard has his doubts, and that truly touched me when i first read it as someone who was actively reckoning with the fact that past traumas that had impacted me more than i realized.

the comic goes on for a while longer, but the last thing it has to say on the subject of plurality is this.

image id: a single comic panel. counselor troi is seated in one of the chairs in captain picard's ready room, facing him from across his desk. she is on the left, facing partially right, and he is on the right, in profile facing left. the dialogue reads as follows. picard wonders, "was it [the dissociative fragmentation of his identity] truly a creation of the mind-meld, or was it simply breaking a dam that was already cracked?" riker interrupts over the comm. "riker to picard." "go ahead, number one," picard tells him. "it's time to beam down to damiano for the ceremony, sir." "thank you, commander."

and that's it. picard asks a question, then gets called away and never tells us his answer.

i think, at least subconsciously, that might be part of why i held star trek: picard to such a high standard.

to be clear, i hadn't read this comic when the first season of picard was coming out. but i was starting to grapple with my plurality, and i used fictional media as a means to do that (as is still evidenced by things like my system simon tag). the first season of the show was centered around both picard's relationship with both his legacy and his history with the borg collective. as mentioned in perchance to dream, captain picard had previously been assimilated by the borg collective — a cybernetic hivemind from the delta quadrant that absorbed cultures and species into itself, effectively wiping out the cultural histories of entire planets, at times, in their quest to become the "perfect" life form through a combination of genetic engineering and mechanical augmentation. and, as this happened, i came to know a young man named hugh who took form within my mind. a fictional introject, or fictive, of the character of the same name from season 5, episode 23, i, borg. with his help, i grew to further understand my own plurality, and saw the potential for our stories to be told in the wake of reclamations from the borg collective. the reclamation project became a hyperfixation, and—

and then came the jurati collective.

my own system bears no connection to the jurati collective, but it is a wonder, and can be examined through a plural lens as an allegory for our own experiences as dissociatives. many consciousnesses, all working together as one towards a common goal, and willingly. after all, what is a system if not a hive within one body?

and then came picard's third season, completely ignoring her, along with all the unique perspectives that stories surrounding her might have offered in favor of what felt like a final next generation movie.

ignoring me, it felt like.

is that silly? probably. but, try as i might, i am human, and so i have a propensity for illogic — no matter how much my autistic brain craves structure and definitive explanations in order to understand the world.

i'll be honest, i'm not sure how to end this. but, sometimes i remember the time in season 6, episode 20, the chase, when picard became incredibly excited about an ancient alien society that believed people were, indeed, collectives within themselves.

"...the kurlan civilisation believed that an individual was a community of individuals. inside us are many voices, each with its own desires, its own style, its own view of the world." -captain jean-luc picard

and i realize that, with the core tenant of this series lying in the infinite diversity of both the known and the unknowable — the building blocks are already in place. star trek is a media that has grown over the decades, and hopefully will continue to do so, because there are still so many ways for new and interesting and meaningful stories to be told within this franchise.

but, if you can't summon your representation from a nostalgiabait sequel/reboot within a preexisting intellectual property... there's nothing to stop you from crafting your own story and letting loose as many systems as you like.

#shut up emrys #star trek #star trek tng #star trek the next generation #the next generation #jean luc picard #captain picard #multiplicity #plurality #actually multiple #actually plural #first time using those tags. whoogh #uhhh. unsure of other tags..#i think that’ll do tbh

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gatheringfiki · 4 months

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The following ficlet was written by @lazysaturdayonthebeach based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Rating TBC

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

Princes of Prophecy

---

Fili was five when Kili was born. He was twenty-five when he mastered the recitation of his lineage. His people had abandoned The Lonely Mountain fifty generations earlier and all they had left of that once great kingdom was a myth, a few hereditary leaders, and a prophecy:

When the mountain moves, forgotten princes will witness the beginning and cause the rise of hope.

The dwarves of Erebor long considered themselves the dwarves of Ered Mithrim. Thirteen extended and intermarried families shared the mines at the southeastern end of that mountain range overlooking the fabled Withered Heath. Once the home of dragons, it now lay abandoned. But stories of its great flying beasts still frightened children.

On his fiftieth birthday, Fili’s uncle took him along the edge of the heath enroute to the Iron Hills. Fili had entered puberty and negotiations for his marriage had begun. There would be no official union until he reached majority at the age of 100, but good deals took time.

For his part, Fili considered himself already married. On Kili’s twenty-fifth birthday, the two had solemnly and secretly exchanged oak wreaths. It was what Kili wanted and Fili wanted whatever made Kili happy. He didn’t understand why Kili’s smile made his heart warm, but it did and he never wanted to lose that feeling.

Fili rode in the wagon with Uncle Dwalin while Uncle Thorin rode separately on a pony. There was plenty of room for Kili, but his mother had told him that Kili was too young for the journey and would be safer at home. He grudgingly accepted her wisdom. Kili hated it and Fili tasked him with guarding their secret treasures while he was gone. That mollified the younger dwarf. Thorin had promised that the expedition would return in time for Yule, so Fili and Kili made matching countdown calendars in their journals to track the days.

In the second week of the journey, Thorin spotted the single peak of Erebor in the distance and the whole group stopped to have a meal and record their thoughts and impressions. Fili drew a picture so he could share it with Kili.

They ended up camping there for the night. After dinner, they all sat around the fire and shared stories. Eventually, the shadow of Erebor led Thorin to tell the tale of the prophecy. Fili was reminded that he was a prince but the prophecy specified princes, plural, so that this was not yet the time.

The adults nodded silently, but Fili asked if the person he married would become a prince. Thorin explained that his wife would be a princess, not that anyone had used those titles in a long time. Fili insisted that his husband would be a prince, so Thorin reminded him that he had a duty to take a wife and produce an heir. Then he changed the subject.

Fili squinted angrily at Thorin as the adults dismissed the young dwarf from their conversation. If the duty to take a wife and produce an heir was so important, why was he the heir because Thorin hadn’t? He grumbled under his breath and lay back to look for shapes in the stars.

The rest of the trip went as expected and they were indeed home in time for Yule. Fili’s greatest gift was being reunited with his best friend. He strove to make the most of their time together in case Thorin really tried to force him to marry differently.

On Fili’s seventy-fifth birthday, it became obvious that Thorin recognized his relationship with Kili and wanted to end it. He began sending Fili on frequent trading trips. As long as Thorin was not in the party, however, Kili would join them by dinnertime on the first or second day. He was an excellent hunter and his presence ensured full stomachs, so everyone was happy to see him.

Fili began to plan ways to escape Ered Mithrim. He loved his friends and family. He loved the mountains and mines of his home. But he loved Kili more. And Thorin became more and more adamant about making a good marriage and having sons.

Every trip became a scouting trip. Fili’s journal filled with possible routes and destinations. He quietly kept a portion of his earnings back from his treasury account. He purchased or traded equipment and supplies until he had the most comfortable and impressive caravan in the entire realm. His team included younger members of every family.

Thorin thought Fili was a genius and let him run their entire trading program. He considered it all an asset to his matchmaking efforts. Serious offers of marriage and alliance arrived almost as regularly as the profits from Fili’s trips. He decided that the whole princes and Kili thing was just youthful exuberance.

On Fili’s ninety-fifth birthday, Thorin announced his engagement to the eldest daughter of a distant relation and trading partner in Ered Luin. Fili had not been consulted. He held Kili’s hand under their table and they both faked smiles throughout the banquet.

Fili’s caravan left two days later. The previously planned trip raised no suspicions. Like Fili’s first expedition, their path lead southeast toward the Iron Hills. Again, in the second week of the journey, the single peak of Erebor was sighted in the distance and the whole group stopped for the night. Fili was happy to share it with Kili. He felt it was a good omen for their plan.

The next morning, half of the caravan, with most of the trading goods, continued on to the Iron Hills. They would continue sending progress reports by raven, fulfill the obligations Fili had contracted, and return to Ered Mithrim with the profits.

Untethered from Thorin’s expectations and machinations, Fili and Kili headed southwest with the remaining members of the caravan. None of them had good prospects at home and were happy to follow Fili in finding a new domain. If all went as planned, the members of the decoy caravan would receive messages and join them over the next few years.

On Fili’s one-hundredth birthday, he officially married Kili. They stood before their found family and friends on an outcrop in the Misty Mountains with Erebor a distant point on the horizon. Their new community was small and they were just beginning to make progress on a new mine, but they all had hope.

At that moment, The Lonely Mountain erupted. Gandalf’s wildest fireworks were put to shame. They all watched in amazement and a bit of fear as even their distant home shook under their feet. Someone remembered and repeated the prophecy out loud:

When the mountain moves, forgotten princes will witness the beginning and cause the rise of hope.

#submission #Gathering 12 Days 2023 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #the Hobbit

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