#Lured in by elves is Normal it's expected even | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tumblingxelian · 1 month ago

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Oooh been looking forward to your response to this and I was not disappointed!

But yeah agreed, its such a fun thig to explore, cos they contras the general expectation so much. What's more, the writers themselves utilize this factor very intentionally, while for a lot of other series it feels more like an accident or like something they are straining against. But with RWBY it fits very naturally.

Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang generally come off as a friendly, likeable, good natured bunch without really anything all that offputting. For about… eighty to ninety percent of the time. But then you’ve got those 10-20% moments where the dark, serious ‘fantasy war-veteran’ sides of Team RWBY slip out.

Loved this description, pitch perfect XD & as you say, its not like they try and hide it, its just. This is so normalized to them that its usually only under dire circumstances that it becomes obvious in their manner, or via their lack of shift in manner beyond being more professional.

One thing I will note is that Weiss & Blake are less comfortable killing than Ruby & Yang at least in my eyes. For Weiss I think its genuinely that she was comparatively sheltered in that regard at least. While for Blake she has killed, she was a child soldier, so she's got more trauma about it. She'll do it, but as she said in V7, she really, really does not want to. Ruby & Yang can make the judgment call "Its them or us" and not lose sleep over it.

At least to me XD

Also gods yeah I love that mental image, especially given that kind of stunt is pulled by villains who usually have reason to be confident the heroes won't take that kind of action. Reminds me of that bit in Sar Wars where a guy is like:

"So who will be the first to become a cold blooded murderer?"

Then Anakin casually runs him through the back, the difference being he does this with a smile on his face and a casual disregard, while as you say, Ruby grasps the gravity of what she's doing, but if there's not another option, ell the decision had to be made.

Oh yeah, even as the most nominally sheltered Weiss still expected settlements to have massive fortification, and patrols, and for major issues to lure Grimm. Its just what you're taught. & yeah there'd be no one else to really 'get it' which only complicates things.

Mhm very true, or even in somewhat more dangerous fantasies, usually the monsters are more of an external, invasive problem, but its the humans, elves, ETC that run the show, while Orcs or Dragons are only problems in the occasional wild lands ETC.

Mhm I can see it feeling uncanny, also suddenly reminded of a joke by Yahtzee, about how humanly has always sought monsters to justify our existence that a monster wanted to kill us & for us to fight it. Probably not that applicable but I had to share, but yeah they are used to living in a world under threat, the presence of a need for battle is a familiar thing to them.

Mhm, it was looking over your story again (I need to properly read more chapters, sorry ><) That in part made me think of this ask, you did a great job conveying all that!

Oh god that sounds fun XD

& that would be hilarious!

I think Yang would also regard it as a last resort, though Ruby's fighting style is harder to make none lethal while for Yang she just needs to not pull the triggers so I think it makes sense. My general take was tied to I think outlined really well by @lovingdabeessss in that Ruby & Yang were raised to fight monsters & make a value judgement on "What ensures the maximum number of people get home alive first."

IE, its heavily utilitarian, while for Weiss & Blake fighting is more ideological and reflects more about their characters. While for Ruby & Yang fighting is a matter of surviving first and foremost, its something to survive & that is always the top priority, we will see them extend olive branches (Ruby) or give chances to back off (Yang) but when it comes down to making that call they'll do it and be able to live with it the most easily of their team.

You know that "Mundane super power" aspect you mentioned?

Another thing I like about crossing over RWBY characters with other settings is how easily their nature as basically coming from an apocalyptic hell-world can bleed through.

This is hard to articulate, but like.

The casual way in which towns disappear, that ruins dot the landscape, that people like Ruby & Yang grew up immersed in a culture that trended towards violence and early graves.

There's a nifty Naruto/Stargate crossover, (Its complicated) where Himawari kind of subtly disturbs the Stargate crew cos she knows exactly how best to behave in a dangerous situation, doesn't really seem bothered when enemies die and has been taught stuff like "Reading the battlefield."

I think RWBY characters would be similarly off-putting in their own way unless they were incredibly sheltered like Jaune or rich enough to have not ever encountered a Grimm until the the Beacon Test like Weiss. & even then, the lived experience, training and cultural awareness means they'd likely still come off as a little off-putting.

This also plays into how Ruby and Yang are seemingly quite... Not comfortable, but functional about the prospect of causing death or grievous bodily harm in a way most Shounen/action protags aren't.

Ruby, as far as she knew, sent Neo hurtling to her death in V3 and was at most momentarily shocked when Roman died & forgot all about it. Yang processed killing Adam in a very straightforward manner, she's not cavalier about it, but she'd made peace with it being a them or us situation right quick.

There's plenty of other examples but I think we've discussed it before.

But yeah, I just think its fun, even in series that can have similar degrees of destruction or death, their relative youth and manner with it would likely still make many locals be like (oO) & I think that's fun.

Oh yeah, this has always been a great idea for RWBY crossovers.

And one of my favorite/most interesting parts about is, as you touched on, how subtle Team RWBY’s whole vibe is and how it can potentially sneak up on others.

Like Team RWBY and really most of the show’s characters generally DON’T give off any real obvious ‘I come from a fucked-up deathworld’ vibes like being real dark, broody or even just looking anything the part. For anyone from a much more mundane setting/background, Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang generally come off as a friendly, likeable, good natured bunch without really anything all that offputting.

For about… eighty to ninety percent of the time.

But then you’ve got those 10-20% moments where the dark, serious ‘fantasy war-veteran’ sides of Team RWBY slip out. Like they might not even have been trying to hide it, it just comes out when things get serious.

Like maybe there is some big disaster or some other terrible event perhaps caused by the villains that leaves the more ‘normal’ characters/heroes frozen in shock and horror, meanwhile RWBY are just immediately jumping into the fray to fight or help however they can. With perhaps one or more doing the whole ‘slap the shock’ out of the other characters with a ‘We got work to do!’. And it’s just kind of… unsettling how Team RWBY takes these events in stride.

Or to build off your point on Ruby and Yang, as well as Blake and Weiss, being ‘functionally alright’ with hurting/killing people*, there’s a LOT of juicy potential there for when Team RWBY goes up against more mundane villains.

Like just picture a situation where a villain is threatening innocents in a classic ‘you’ll have to KILL ME to stop me!’ standoff that has the heroes freezing up… only for Ruby to almost immediately just shoot said villain.

She certainly looks like she didn’t enjoy or even want to do it, but both how quickly she did it and how easily she seems to role with it afterwards are just REALLY unsettling.

And then there’s what I’d call the FLIPSIDE to all this in how Team RWBY deals with being in a world that might NOT actually be filled with monsters who are an ever-present existential threat to humanity.

Like even for someone who grew up more sheltered like Weiss that is almost certainly going to be a MASSIVE culture-shock. Not to mention that the only people with a frame of reference that Team RWBY would be able to talk to about this would likely be each other.

Even in settings that might have some kind of monsters threatening humanity such as most magical girl shows, the appearance and threat that these monsters pose are almost always a very RECENT occurrence that most people might not even know about. Generally in these settings, the ‘normal, mundane world’ IS the norm, with the dangerous and supernatural merely popping up on and off in isolated places.

It could really create this interesting contrast where Team RWBY finds the mundane world that their new friends consider ‘normal’ to be just a bit uncanny and unsettling. And even finding it a bit comforting when monsters or some other supernatural threat to fight shows up because that feels more NORMAL to them.

This is actually something I tried/am still trying to explore in my Kingdom Hearts crossover fic. Like Ruby musing on how to explain her whole huntress background to Sora, Kairi and Riku when to them, monsters are things that have existed in storybooks, while for Ruby monsters have always been REAL. Or Ruby even noting a comforting ‘return to normal’ when she starts fighting the Heartless.

I’ve even got ideas for Ruby, as well as Weiss, Blake and Yang further on, idly musing on whether the Grimm or Heartless are the worse to fight, with some of their new friends being just a BIT weirded out.

And that’s not even getting into the potential of Team RWBY interacting with various Disney movie settings. Like I’ll admit that I kinda REALLY want to have Ruby boom-headshot at least one Disney villain XD

*I will say, I’ve had a theory for a while that Ruby, even more so than her teammates, has particular ideological reasons to generally avoid killing people, specifically when we consider how Ruby specifically DOESN’T use her ‘walking grimm-blender’ style of fighting against human opponents. Personally I imagine Ruby seeing it as ‘I hunt MONSTERS, not people.’ That being said, I don’t see Ruby as having some strict ‘no-killing’ ‘one rule’, but rather that she views taking a life as a last resort.

#RWBY #rwby crossover #Team RWBY

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tealeafgrimm · 2 years ago

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Second Chance

Sirius Black x Reader Words: 1.1k Summary: You find out about Sirius' attempt to lure Snape into the Shrieking Shed and confront him about it. Will he realize his mistake? Warning: Swearing

The blood pounded in your ears, muffling every sound around you. Your hands were clenched into fists at your side as you climbed the final steps with a fixed stare. You gave the password to the Fat Lady in a trembling voice and her portrait swung out to reveal the entrance to the common room.

It was already past midnight, which left the common room completely empty. As you entered the room, however, you heard the startled inhalation of the house elves cleaning up the students' mess.

Normally you would have told them you were sorry for scaring them and thanked them for their work. But your anger blinded you. Determined, you marched toward the spiral staircase that led to the dormitories. Instead of turning left toward the girls' rooms, you took the turnoff that led to the boys' dormitories. There was no sound coming from the rooms, most of the students had already gone to bed hours ago and those who had stayed up longer would surely be asleep now.

Without knocking, you yanked open the door in one swing and turned on the light.

"W-what, Y/N? What's the matter? Did something happen?" James Potter sat bolt upright in his bed, his hair even more disheveled than usual, while he still half-drowsily searched for his glasses.

"It's about time you came back. I've been searching the entire castle for you for hours. Sirius?" Your voice was still shaky, yet loud and authoritative. You didn't care if you woke the entire castle.

A grunt sounded from the bed across from you. Sirius ran a hand through his dark curls and looked at you from scrunched up eyes.

"Y/N, do you really have to talk to him now?" groaned James, sinking back into his pillows. The only one who didn't seem to mind you standing in his room in the middle of the night was Peter. All that sounded from his bed was loud snoring.

"Yes James. I need to talk to him now," you hissed, striding towards his boyfriend’s bed.

"What the hell were you thinking? Lily just told me. I've been looking everywhere for you. You weren't in the hospital wing with Remus. You weren't here. You weren't at dinner."

"What are you talking about?" yawned Sirius, straightening up in his bed. When he saw your angry expression, his expression changed and he stood up to talk to you better.

"I'm talking about your brilliant idea of telling Severus where Remus disappears to every month and how to get to him. Tell me, are you out of your mind? Do you know what you could have done?"

"Oh that. It's not so bad. James warned the idiot after all. Maybe this will be a warning to him to keep his overgrown nose out of things that don't concern him." He grinned at you, expecting your expression to soften.

"Not so bad? You're lucky James had his three brain cells together," you ignored the 'Hey!' from the other side, "Otherwise, the outcome could have been a different one."

"Do you actually think this whole thing is a joke?" By now Sirius seemed to understand that you weren't taking the whole thing lightly and that you were actually angry with him.

"Hear me out, okay?" he started, trying to grab your shoulders, but you jerked back from him.

"Why the fuck should I listen to you? What can you say that will justify your action?"

"It was just Snivellus!"

"Just Snape? Did you ever think for two seconds that you'd send him in there when Remus was transforming?"

"Well, that was the whole point," Sirius laughed, looking to his friend for help.

"And then what? Remus can't control himself when he transforms. He would have killed him. Do you care so little about your own friends that you want to make him a murderer?" You literally shout the last part of the sentence at him.

Sirius fell silent and stared at you in shock.

"I...didn't think about that," he finally muttered, staring at the floor.

"Of course you haven't Sirius. You never think about the consequences. Not everything is a joke! You can't just do whatever you want. Think about it!" And with that, you gave him one last scowl, as well as James. At the door, you paused once more.

"And apologize to Remus. The poor guy was upset when he heard what you were up to."

~~~

For the next week and a half, you didn't talk to Sirius. You didn't really want to break up with him, but you wanted him to realize that you wouldn't tolerate his behavior and that he had clearly gone too far with his last action. Luckily for you, Remus hadn't been too keen on Sirius' plan either and had given him a telling off as soon as he had been dismissed by Madam Pomfrey.

Unlike you, however, Remus hadn't been mad at your boyfriend for very long, and less than two days later, everything was business as usual between the Marauders. Still, you could tell that it was gnawing at Sirius that you weren't talking to him. And his friends also knew that he would like to apologize to you, but didn't really know how.

"Y/N?! Wait a minute." You were about to leave the Great Hall after dinner to devote yourself to your leftover homework in the common room. When you turned around, you saw that Remus and James had followed you.

"Y/n listen, could you maybe talk to Sirius again? He's really distraught. He's really sorry," Remus began, looking at you almost begging.

"Remus, you of all people, should know better than anyone that he needs to learn what works and what doesn't."

"Trust me, he gets it, he really does." James nodded eagerly.

"He wants to apologize too, he really does, but he just doesn't know how. It drives you crazy. Every night he talks to himself and practices how to talk to you, only to not do it." He rolled his eyes at that and you couldn't help a little laugh.

As you looked past the two of them, you could see that Sirius was still alone at the Gryffindor table, poking absent-mindedly at his food. He really didn't look very well. Maybe he really had noticed that you were serious this time.

"Please Y/N," Remus pleaded now, looking back and forth between you and Sirius.

"Alright. I'll talk to him. But just so you're forewarned: One more action like that and that's it." With that, you made your way over to your boyfriend. After all, you wanted to hear his rehearsed apology for yourself.

"Thank goodness! I don't think I could have had another evening of Sirius whining," James muttered as he and Remus left the hall.

"Tell me about it." And with a quick high five, the two friends disappeared.

#sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black #harry potter series #harry potter oneshot #reader insert #one shot #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders era #the marauders #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black fic #sirius x reader #sirius x you #sirius x y/n

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lokispettigerr · 3 years ago

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Becoming the Undone Beneath Time pt 1: Loki x Reader (future parts NSFW) SMUT

Summary: Reader is another moving part working diligently within the Time Variance Authority as a lead researcher for the Classification of Dangerous and Destructive Matter. Whilst documenting ancient and deadly relics, a new variant arrives, absolutely lethal, yet she has an unparalleled and unexpected connection to this new familiar stranger. Little does she know, he is the catalyst of her becoming. Word Count: 1,106

Warnings: None, guess I will lure you in with a sense of false security and when you least expect it post smut that makes your clitoris beg for mercy.

Taglist: In that reblog.

A/N: I have been running a race that is not mine, and keeping a fear that does not belong to me to encounter the shadow that is the twin of someone else. I have done my time. I have faced my shadow and Shadow Beast taught me well. Time for me to start BECOMING THE UNDONE BENEATH TIME. I hope to get back to writing for funsies and I hope you all decide to read and connect for the same. Wanna know the magic and otherworldly crystal that inspired the INCREDIBLE Yminnite? Comment below to find out! Stroke that reblog like you tryna get sumthin to support this awesome and future NSFW story!

Artifact #27597, a truly stunning mineral-mimicking compound. Niflheim subjects called it Yminnite, a dark and primordial name to honor an even more mysterious, primordial energy of creation, ultimate sacrifice, and renewing death. Yminnite possessed stranger qualities than most compounds and “crystals”. For starters, it was pleochroic; it exhibited a stunning optical phenomenon shifting colors from deep, still violet, to vibrant blue, honey gold, and then pitch black. The most revered characteristic was the nebula-like inclusions trapped inside of the stone. They could be studied to predict the weather of not just one realm, but all. The chaotic and always conquer-hungry race of Dark Elves that inhabited Niflheim found this as not only beneficial to their home planet but often used it to gain the upper hand before attacking a neighboring planet. For chaos creatures of nature and borne of dark matter, this was not only beneficial for their home planet but allowed them an advantage over more advanced planets during raids.

Residents of Niflheim lived in near-total darkness, which to most “normal” photoreceptors made Niflheim’s landscape dull in its varying shades of gray. Yet for the mysterious and somewhat scary creatures of Niflheim, they saw a world of vibrant and exciting color at a spectrum that we could never even dream of seeing. There was a striking beauty in the adaptability of creation. In Niflheim, creatures mastered shadow, evolving to possess multiple eyes. I focused my attention back on the Yminnite, wondering what it would be like to see it as one of the rare breeds home to Niflheim. How many more colors would I see then? Here I was responsible for analyzing and compiling data on every stone (infinity or other), relic, and artifact of creation or destruction that passed through the portals of the TVA. The longer I waited with the relics, patiently taking notes and performing my quiet research, the more secrets they shared with me. This was, of course, the reason I was the lead researcher in the Classification of Dangerous and Destructive Matter Initiative. Were the rumors true? Did Yminnite let out a secret scream, and if it did, why?For what purpose would a stone, a mesmerizing one at that, scream? I shook the thought from my head, never mind that I could extricate whatever secrets this stone kept in my own way, and once extricated they would be locked deep within the off-limit vaults in the TVA. Pencil to paper, I scribbled, “Yminite chemical composition: Ca2Al3Si3O12(OH)--”.“ Did you hear about the newest variant?” Steve chirped excitedly to me. The graphite pencil point snapped, flinging off into some unknown reaches of the “Characterization and Qualities Analytics, Systems, and Magics of Protected Artifacts.” Other staff and members of the TVA referred to our overly drab and lengthy department name as the PAR- short for Protected Artifacts Reserve. I eyed Steve, uninterested in the latest gossip, “You know I haven’t because you know I don’t care enough, just like you know that I will listen to you tell me anyway.” Steve grinned widely, “Well, the newest dangerous variant, super elusive, by the way, a master of tricks and illusions, has finally been snagged by chance and luck it would seem.” “Hmm, but can he pull a rabbit out of a hat though? If not, I’m not interested,” I joked. Steve rolled his eyes. “Of course he is dangerous. He’s a variant, Steve… Why else would he be here?” “Oh, Mhm, absolutely L E T H A L, they say,” he stated, “names Loki, maybe I can call him Lethal Loki.” “Geeze Steve, careful. Your pants are tenting,” I chuckled, “besides, something tells me he won’t respond well to a nickname like that no matter how pleasant an alliteration you think it is.” Steve, gullible as ever and seemingly unaware of what his own sex organs might be doing, glanced down, “What?! No! Stop that! Can’t you just for one moment act like an adult! What other entertainment could you possibly have right this moment? Playing with rocks?!” My smile fell and my cheeks began to burn. “This is not just a rock! It’s Yminnite. Completely unmatched power to most other artifacts ever found in Niflheim, and a superior chemical composition that has never before been replicated! I can assure you, Steven, it is imminently more lethal than any variant that walks through-- rather falls through-- the portals of the TVA!” “Let me stop you there,” Steve replied dryly, “that dumb rock is likely going to be Curtis’ next paperweight, and besides it’s totally useless in a place like this. Unimpressive, bland, boring. Now that hunky variant on the other hand smells ripe with adventure.” Almost as if on queue, I began smelling a sweat-tinged odor that preceded a rather sturdy-looking man with inky black curls, a sharp nose matched with cruelly prominent features accentuated by dark and ominous shadows that likely never left his face. It all seemed strangely out of place with his overly kind and knowing eyes-- there was a strange and misplaced innocence to them; pure magic that seemed to put most of the artifacts I classified to shame. Kacey, another researcher, stood behind him looking a little disheveled but otherwise nonplussed. The man with the deep pool eyes towered, still as a statue, and muttered, “Is this the greatest power in the universe? ”Steve jabbed my ribcage excitedly, taking it as a compliment surely. I shooed him away. He laughed and trotted out looking boyish as ever, and cried over his shoulder, “See you later!” I shook my head, trying to dislodge the sudden peak in my interest to the newest captured variant. I wasn’t an interrogator, never would be, and had little interest to be one. I much rather would continue my good work of understanding, collecting, and documenting the artifacts that were brought to me. In this quiet place of scribbling pencils and clicking keys, I was useful, I was necessary. A small part of something more than myself. Everyone here had a role, each as important as the last, but knowing what makes a variant tick? I inhaled, closing my eyes in an attempt to clear the thoughts that rose, reaching a loud roar. I wondered if Yminite’s supposed “scream” was louder than my own thoughts, and peered at it nestled between my fingertips. Ready to fully immerse myself in the secrets it would only willingly share with me. As if the relic in my hand was not interesting enough, I cast one last glance at the variant as he was ushered out, my eyes resting on his broad shoulders wishing I indeed knew what made him, Loki, tick. ________________________________ Oh I do hope you enjoyed this fun and introductory first part! Please stroke on that reblog button, it might moan, you never know! Comment, and whatever else you wanna do to it! Send an ASK ONLY if you want to be on any particular taglist. Love to have you adding on to that thirsty list of fiends! Hope to hear from you, past and present followers soon! Check in and tell me how you have been! Did you enjoy the Loki series? Comment below!

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silverlysilence · 5 years ago

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Hidden at Hogwarts

So @fabllama02 recently reblogged a post about how the RotBTD Hogwarts AUs got their Houses all wrong (though it does mention how Hiccup was sorted correctly in Ravenclaw and I was like, WTF?! Most of the art I see is with Hiccup as Hufflepuff, which is believable, but Ravenclaw is obviously the right choice there, but I’m digressing).

Anyways, it points out how Jack Frost should be in Hufflepuff and that got me thinking...

Jackson Overland was by no means the best student to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He probably would have been sorted into Ravenclaw House if that were the case but neither had he received a Troll or Dreadful on his any of his O.W.L.s. The worst he got was a Poor in History of Magic but he blamed having a ghost for a professor for that one. The rest of his O.W.L. were Acceptable or Exceeds Expectations with an Outstanding in Transfiguration that surprised even himself.

Still, despite it being only a few weeks into his sixth year, Jackson was already counting down the days until the end of the term. Most students would balk at wanting to leave Hogwarts—well, at least when it wasn’t exam time—because it was the best school in all of Europe. However, the majority of the school had something he didn’t.

Friends.

Oh, don’t get him wrong, Jackson did have friends. A lot of them if he was being honest but none of them went to Hogwarts. They either attended regular school or went to one of the other two prestigious European schools of magic. He was fine with that, in the beginning, since he received acceptance letters from both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons as well and could have followed his friends if he desired to.

But Jackson Overland was stubborn and he wanted to attend the alma mater he read about from his mother’s schoolgirl diary. The young ten-year-old him believed he would make new lifelong friends at Hogwarts and then he’d wouldn’t be sad his other friends weren’t there with him. The train ride had been a great start, he’d bounced around from compartment to compartment, talking with anyone willing and learning a fair share of Hogwarts outside of what he’d learned from books and secondhand accounts.

Then his Sorting took place.

Ravenclaw was the first to be discarded for the simple reason that he didn’t seek knowledge for the joy of knowing as many of the House so often did and he wasn’t one to believe intelligence was everything. Knowing didn’t matter when one didn’t have the courage or drive to do something with it. He was sad, though. Sad that Ravenclaw was immediately taken off the table when air was their element, that stung since he did so love being up in the air, surrounded by the winds.

He wasn’t surprised that Gryffindor was the next House to be rejected. Jackson could be brave and daring when he needed too, but only when it involved others. Not only that, but fire wasn’t his thing and with it being Gryfindor’s corresponding element, he could live without being a member of the House.

That left two options that the Hat painstakingly struggled with: Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

Hufflepuffs were hard-working, dedicate, patience, and loyalty. All of which could describe Jackson to the letter, when he felt like it. He could be dedicated and hard-working if that meant more time for fun. He had patience—how else could he survive year from year at Hogwarts without being patient?—and was fiercely loyal. Even better, earth was the element for Hufflepuff.

Before he could get too excited over that fact, the Hat began considering the last option.

Slytherin House.

Jackson actually knew more about the House than any of the others. His mother’s diary described many of late nights sitting under one of the silver lamps hanging from the ceiling in the Slytherin’s cold common room. Cold because the common room lies beneath the element of their House, water from the Black Lake, but the warmth of her words spoke of fondness for her House. He might not have the same ambition to become the world’s youngest Potion Mistress as his mother, but his determination and need to toe the line in regards to the rules—he was testing their elasticity—was something they both had in common. Add in his cunningness and resourcefulness nature when pulling off a prank that even impressed the sole portrait—hidden in an antechamber of one of the countless secret passageways Jackson passed his time searching—of a younger Salazar Slytherin and he could very well fit in with people of similiar values.

In the end, the Hat had allowed him to choose and he’d chosen loyalty. Loyalty to a mother he had vague memories of and a diary full of stories he often dreamed about.

Jackson Overland was draped in the silver and greens of the Slytherin House that night sealing his fate.

The next morning, as he giddily bounced through the halls, cheerfully greeting anyone he passed, he noticed the change. Where the same students had been happy to help and answer his exuberant questions on the train, they took one look at the colors of his tie and turned up their noses, ignoring him. It soon became apparent by choosing Slytherin, he had effectively alienated the other three-fourths of Hogwarts. It was disheartening and had him dragging his feet as he tried again and again with other members of the various Houses only to be met with the same result.

At least he had his own House. The House his mother loved so dearly. There was just one problem. A small difference between his mother and him.

Phoebe Black was as Pure-blood as they came and from The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black before she’d been struck off the tapestry.

Jackson Overland was a Half-blood.

Nothing more than a Mudblood in the eyes of his Housemates.

He quickly learned none of them would approach him outside the confines of the dormitories in fear of another student of a different House or teacher seeing them and tarnishing the reputation of Slytherin, inside was another matter. His homework would always disappear, ink bottles shattered and quills snapped. None of his school robes were destroyed as that would reflect badly on the House and possibly lose them points, his muggle clothes, on the other hand, were mere rags. Worse was their constant taunts and name-calling.

It was no wonder Jackson had taken to hiding away in Hogwarts as much as possible. When he wasn’t in class or sleeping behind heavily warded curtains, he was invisible. Practically a ghost. For Merlin’s sake, Profession Binns routinely forgot he was a student and would give him Ghost Letters as reading material.

Thankfully, The Grey Lady caught him attempting to decipher the ghostly writing to no avail one day and kindly read the translucent notes out loud for him to copy down on a sheet of parchment. He thanked her by placing a single lily flower in the small niche window seat she so often haunted. Since then, it had become a tradition, when Jackson received Ghost Letters, the Grey Lady would read them aloud for him, and a lily would be put in place the next day.

A process he was repeating once more, gently tucking the Moonbeam Lily that in no way shape or form came from the Forbidden Forest next to the blue and silver pillow. Making sure flower was visible and would be easily spotted, he quickly retreated to one of the hidden passages Salazar informed him of and waited. He didn’t have to wait too long for the Grey Lady to float down the hallway, passing his hiding spot, where she came to a halt next to the window.

Amber eyes gleamed in happiness when he saw lips forever in a grim expression tilt upwards. Jackson didn’t know if she knew he always stuck around long enough—sometimes hours—just to see her reaction. To him, it was the best part, because if it made the usual solemn ghost happy for a small moment and that made him happy.

He was just about to take a step back and head down the path at his back when a polite nasally voice drifted down the hall, rooting the brunet to the spot. He couldn’t see the person but the distinguishable clinking of metal against stone every other step was a dead giveaway. Amber eyes immediately caught sight as tall auburn-haired wearing the same blue and bronze ties as the bulky blond at his side as they made their way pasted his hiding place, animatedly discussing the Triwizard Tournament announcement. Undoubtedly on their way to their common room to get quills and ink to submit their names into the Goblet of Fire.

It was only after they were long gone, voices but a distant memory that Jackson let out his breath.

“Why do you not talk to him?”

Jackson didn’t jump, but it was a near thing. Instead, he leaned up against the wall and allowed himself to slide down, sitting in the darkness with only the silvery-grey light cast from the Grey Lady for light. Drawing his knees to himself, he rested his arms on top and buried his head as if that would further hide him from the world.

“I’d rather not,” the brunet shrugged languidly.

“I do not understand. You often stare at him, and speak fondly of his deeds, but you never approach him,” the Grey Lady glided over towards the teenager. “Why is that?”

“Because Hiccup bloody Haddock doesn’t know I existed despite having the biggest crush on him?” Jackson mumbled into his arms.

“Yet I have heard you fondly speak of the first time you saw him on multiple occasions.”

“Again, he didn’t know I was there,” Jackson hummed, the memory of his fourth year unbiddenly rise to the surface.

He had just fled Charms class, slipping into the nearest hidden passageway leading to the kitchens for some lunch away from the Great Hall when he heard the deep nasally voice doing a poor imitation of a Scottish accent. Normally, he would have kept on walking, the prospect of learning a few new recipes from the eager House Elves more of a lure, but the laughter of children had his curiosity peeked.

Following the laughter led him to a brick wall, but a tap from his wand on an indented stone had the brick sliding back, giving him a glimpse inside the usually unused classroom currently filled with a group first and second years—ties of all colors sans the stark greens and silver of his own—sitting in a circle as a teenager—lacking the telltale tie and all important crest emblazoned robes—read from a book in one hand while waving his wand about in the other hand as he paced inside the circle.

The floating veils above the auburn hair swirled before one floated down, passing by another heading upwards to rejoin the group. The teenager began reading again as the veil floated around the circle for all the children to get a good look at and when he was finished describing the properties, he asked the group for the name of the plant. One of the Hufflepuff offered up a name but the teen’s voice took on the horrible Scottish accent once more as he listed how her answer was wrong in a humorous, fun way as to not embarrass her.

It was in that moment, watching the unknown teen spend his lunch hour teaching the younger students about the various potion ingredients and their properties their Potions Master should have taught them—the bastard hadn’t, Jackson knew that from his experience dealing with the man in his capacity as both a professor and Head of House Slytherin—in preparation for the upcoming exams that his interest in the teen grew.

From then on, Jackson kept an eye out for the auburn-haired teen and observed. The next time amber eyes caught a glimpse of him it was with him fumbling with his blue and bronze tie as he hurried into the fifth year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class a few seconds before the bell rang. Jackson was a bit surprised that the unknown teen was a year ahead of him, instead of behind as he initially thought, but he wasn’t surprised to find out he was a Ravenclaw. A week later, the Slytherin learn his name from his hefty blonde Housemate shouting it from across the courtyard as he pulled the notorious Thorston twins from House Hufflepuff after.

Amber eyes had dimmed upon seeing the Ravenclaw walking towards the trio of blondes with a Gryffindor on either side of him. The small fledgling of hope worming its way into his heart quickly shattered. There was no way he could become friends with the kind-hearted auburn-haired teen. Not with two Gryffindors as friends—best of friends from the looks of how they hung off of each other and a little more on the blonde’s part if he had to guess—because while members of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff could be friendly and open with their childhood Slytherins friends and family, Gryffindor and Slytherins did not mix.

At all.

The two Houses always thought the worst of each other, blaming them for everything and since Jackson was lumped together with the other Slytherins, he received more than his fair share of accusations by the House. Another reason he tried so hard to be invisible inside the wall of Hogwarts and stay invisible he would continue to do. Jackson let the hope die and kept his distance. He could not, keep himself from watching over Hiccup though, and with each new thing he learned about the loyal, intelligent, brave Ravenclaw, the larger his crush grew.

“I could speak to him for you; if you so wish?” the Grey Lady offered.

“Milady, I appreciate you’re offer, but Hiccup Haddock is better off not knowing Jackson Overland.”

#Hogwarts #The Grey Lady #I'm Sorry #SilverlySilence's Fanfics #fanfic #Hiccup Haddock #Jack Frost #Jackson Overland #HiJack #Hidden at Hogwarts

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automaticenemycrusade · 4 years ago

Text

Dya: Chapter Two

Dya stared down at Garadar from her perch, sitting in a tree on one of the floating islands. She wasn’t allowed to go into town, not since the day she bit Varuk. There were times when she still felt insulted by it – he’d fought with her first – but there was nothing she could do about it. It was something she had to make peace with, and honestly there were upsides. She’d learned to like coming up, to sit on the soil above the world with Wa’tar’s wind rider. It was quiet, the view was gorgeous, and it let her think.

Getting jealous over Dar’zok’s power had been unkind. She knew that. But she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stave back the pangs of envy when she thought about the lightning coursing through his veins, the fact that the elements favored him. The fact that no source of power would favor her again. She knew that if any other elves could see her now they’d scoff at her, call her worthless. What was an elf without her magic after all? Nothing, that’s what. Even though she hadn’t seen another pointy-eared mess in almost four years it was still hard to get away from that thought sometimes. She shook the thought from her head. She sat up, peering downward. She looked at the town, searching for a single green face among a sea of brown, when a voice called out to her.

“Dya! I didn’t know you would be in town today.” Dya turned to see a familiar smile and warm grey eyes. Dar’zok had landed on the big island behind her. He tied his wyvern to the tree and smiled at her as he approached. She did her best to smile back. She didn’t want Dar’zok to have even the slightest inkling as to what she might’ve been thinking about.

“I didn’t know either. This was an impromptu trip,” she said, “What brings you up here? Surely you have better things to be doing than talking to Wa’tar’s nonexistent daughter.”

“Well,” Dar’zok said, “If that’s how you react to the prospect of my company then maybe I should just leave,” He held a hand up to his chest, mock-hurt, before sitting down next to her, “I think I know who I want to bring with me for the hunt.”

“Let me guess, Shagar?”

Dar’zok, enthused, carried on that Shagar had accepted his invitation to be an observer for his hunt. Dya tried not to feel stung. Dar’zok was her only friend, that was true, but that didn’t mean she was his only friend. Dya has listened to Dar’zok talk about Shagar enough to know that she very much had his interest. She was allegedly very pretty. She was Blackrock, with skin as dark as onyx and eyes as bright as lava. She wore her hair in a long black braid, and she was steadily allowing Dar’zok closer and closer. Much to his delight. He told Dya that she’d accepted on the condition that she get a piece of the kill.

“Perhaps your performance in the field will impress her enough to accept that courting gift you’ve been keeping in your bag for the past five months.” Dya teased, and Dar’zok went pink.

“How did you know?” He asked, dismayed. Dya merely rolled her eyes.

“Because you told me about it when you made it.”

“…Oh. Yeah. I did,” he admitted. Dya merely chuckled.

“I hope it goes the way you want it to,” she said, “I’m honestly a little relieved the orcs don’t like me. I don’t have to ask someone to come with me only to be rejected.”

Dar’zok went quiet for a moment. His brows had furrowed, and he looked upset. His back hunched over just the slightest, his well-groomed hair with some elaborate braids falling into the dirt. He didn’t even bother to lift it off the ground when he responded.

“You…wouldn’t want me to go with you?” He sounded genuinely hurt, and Dya blinked up at him. For the first in a long time, her ears twitched. She’d normally scold herself when she did that, the few orcs who saw her still liked to poke at her about them.

“You want to? I thought you’d be hoping Shagar would invite you.”

Dar’zok shook his head,

“As much as I’d like that, you’re my friend. I met you before I ever even knew Shagar existed. Just because the people in Garadar like to pretend you don’t exist, that doesn’t mean you’re not important or that I don’t want to come see!” he went quiet for a second, “If they’d let me, I’d be inviting you.” Dar’zok looked upset, and Dya stared up at him incredulous. That was a far more serious admission that she thought he realized. The air had immediately become tense, the breezes halting with Dar’zok’s tumultuous emotions. There was a moment of awkward silence, and Dya decided to lure the conversation to safer waters.

They spent a few hours up on the island, talking about everything and nothing. Dar’zok poked at her again and again, asking her what animal she was going to hunt for her own test. He wanted to know so badly, especially because he told her what he was going after. She was, after all, the only person he’d confided in on the subject of a specific clefthoof he wanted to down. Dya finally sighed.

“I’m going to Hellfire Peninsula and I’m going to hunt a ravager.”

Dar’zok got quiet for a moment, and then he did exactly what she expected him to. What she had direly hoped he wouldn’t.

“That’s insane Dya! Those things will kill you!”

She sighed, listening to him carry on about how small she was. How delicate she was. How a ravager thrice her size would have no issue with her. She tried to keep it together, truly, she did. Alas, Dar’zok’s lecture didn’t sit well with her. In fact, she could feel remnants of power responding to her anger. She took a deep breath, but it didn’t seem to help. Doing her best to suppress the green energy that still resided within, she finally snapped.

“Dar’zok do you really think so little of me?” she snarled. Dar’zok stopped, looking at her like he was a puppy she just kicked. If puppies weighed three hundred pounds and wore gold rings on their tusks. Dya couldn’t help the rising indignation. How dare he act wounded when he was the one doing all the attacking?

“No, not at all, just…” he trailed off, searching for the words he wanted but Dya knew what he would say before he could get it out.

“Yes, Dar’zok, I know. I’m not an orc.”

She didn’t give him the opportunity to respond, merely bolting to the wind rider and flying down to the ground to wait for Wa’tar.

/*\

Dya didn’t sleep that night. She stared around at the baked bricks of her added room. Bricks she’d made and baked herself. She laid on a bed she’d made from a tree she’d cut down. All by herself. She wrapped herself in furs that she’d hunted with Wa’tar’s careful supervision, but ultimately, she’d done it herself. She stared out the window, listening to Wa’tar snore from the other room. She glowered at the stars, watching a meteorite fall. Just like it did almost four years ago, but this time Dya didn’t make a wish.

She threw off her covers, uncaring that it was cold. She didn’t want to risk waking Wa’tar, so instead of leaving out the front door she crawled out the window. Dya walked over to her little stable, tall, with rooms. Feeders, hay storage, a small irrigation system from the pure source of the river for her precious pet. Even more things she hadn’t been too delicate to build on her own. She looked in to see if Xayla was awake. The little talbuk looked up at her as she approached, a wide yawn separating her snout. She looked sleepy, blinking at Dya with bleary eyes, but she didn’t seem upset by the interruption of her nap. Dya let herself into the pen, gently petting Xayla’s velvety little ears.

“You don’t care that I’m not an orc,” she whispered, “and you don’t care that I’m an elf forbidden from her magic.”

Dya snuggled up with the talbuk, the deer curling around her tiny body. She did her best not to cry as she tried to lull herself back to sleep. She would have liked to see her mother right now. Though she tried not to, Dya often wondered what had happened to her mother. Perhaps she was dead. Perhaps she had merely left. Perhaps she’d fallen and hit her head and was wandering Outland with amnesia. She’d always told Dya that she had quite the imagination, but Dya would have liked to have her there if only to have someone to hug. Her mother would have known what to say to her, what to do. She’d have told Dya to chin up and that she loved her. That it didn’t matter what other people thought. But it did matter.

Dya held fur in her fists, noting the plain linen dress she’d worn to sleep in contrast with all the things she’d had in her childhood. This was one of the rare times she missed Quel’thalas. Even with the grimacing servants, the carousing nobles, the ever-lurking threat of her father’s violence there had been things about Quel’thalas she’d liked. She’d loved her sister, who she still dearly missed. She’d loved Eldranil River, the waters always sparking with magic. She missed the dragonhawks, some of whom would play with her when she went outside without anyone knowing. But there was something else. Though there had been a host of bad things at the estate, there was one thing she had there. One thing she wished to have again.

She had been worth something to the people of Quel’thalas.

/*\

Dya woke early the next morning. She snuck back to her bed so that Wa’tar wouldn’t lecture her for staying in Xayla’s stable and accuse her of coddling an animal. Today was important, and though Wa’tar had advised against it Dya didn’t care. She would go to Garadar today, not into the town, just up onto her island. She had a few hours to prepare for the trip. She skirted around Wa’tar to the various shelves and cabinets in the hut, his grumbled ‘good morning’ being met with a mere hum as she took stock of the supplies and decided what to bring.

“So, you’re going against my advice and going anyway,” he accused,

“Yes,” Dya said unflinchingly, staring up at the orc with a jar of dried fish jerky in her hands. Despite both their hopes, Dya hadn’t grown much since Wa’tar saved her. She remained stalwartly short, having only grown a few inches. She had to crane her neck to look up at him, but she did so confidently. The graying orc sighed at her, his green face softening just a tad as he smoothed out his beard.

“Very well. You are almost an adult, you should be making your own decisions,” he said, “I just worry that you could get hurt,” his ever-gruff voice had gotten a little quieter, and Dya smiled at him.

“True, I could get hurt. But Dar’zok is my friend and I’d be a shitty friend if I didn’t at least go to see him set off, right?”

Wa’tar only sighed again, shaking his head, but Dya liked to think that he approved. Sometimes people had to do things that were hard, or that were risky. That was just life. Wa’tar didn’t say anything as she grabbed some rations so she could eat throughout the day. She packed some bedding just in case her other task for the day left her unable to return. She checked everything off her mental list, and when she turned, she found Wa’tar handing her another empty clay jar.

“If you bring back a few of the glowing mushrooms in the marsh, I’ll ask Ursa to make you a pie.”

Dya laughed but took the jar anyway. What were some mushrooms in addition to lakeweed?

“I’ll keep an eye out for them,” she said, taking the extra jar and making space for it in her bag. She decided to stow it with the other empty jar. Wa’tar watched and snorted. He shook his head and when he spoke again, he sounded irate. He was even more irate on the matter than she was.

“You’ve passed that ceremony a hundred times over since I’ve taken you in,” he grumbled, “I could never trust any of those young upstarts in Garadar for half the tasks I’ve entrusted to you. Remember that.”

Dya appreciated Wa’tar’s words, his votes of confidence in her. She only smiled at the graying orc and loaded her supplies up on the wyvern. Throk was a temperamental animal, but stalwartly loyal. Wa’tar watched from the doorway of the house as she hoisted herself into the saddle.

“Be careful. The wasps out there will kill you,” Wa’tar never was one to sugarcoat his words. Dya laughed.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” she said, “I’ve done this run for you a thousand times. Even if something goes wrong, I have Throk here with me,” she scratched behind the wyvern’s ears. His eyes slid closed happily.

“I wouldn’t say a thousand,” Wa’tar grunted, crossing his arms and glaring at her meaningfully.

Dya laughed, said her goodbyes, and set off. It wasn’t long until she landed on the island. Already there was a crowd amassed in Garadar. Dar’zok wouldn’t be setting off until noon, and as Dya checked the sun she realized she only barely made it. She didn’t bother dismounting, simply watched from her place. She couldn’t hear anything that was being said, but she could see Dar’zok. He was standing in the center of the village next to a giant bonfire. He was being given space to say something, Dya wasn’t sure what. The crowd cheered for him, and it wasn’t long before another orc approached him on the back of one of the wolves. Shagar, most likely. Dar’zok looked out across the crowd, waving.

Dya knew he couldn’t see her, but she waved back anyway. She watched as Dar’zok left with Shagar. Dar’zok had told her they’d be going southwest, toward Oshugun. They’d be sure to find big game down there, and he wanted to impress his new friend in the worst way. Dya wasn’t sure why that made her sad. She took off, allowing Throk to leap off the island. She would be going north, almost the exact opposite direction. She steered Throk into a stream of wind, allowing him to coast. The journey there would take an hour at least.

She fought to keep her hair out of her face. Despite Wa’tar’s insistent nagging on the subject she refused to tie back her hair. It was her hair and she could do, or not do, as she wished. Though, she was admittedly regretting not taking his advice now. Not that she’d ever let him know that. She was glad she packed her brush. She’d fix the mussed brown waves when she landed.

Once she and Throk had jumped the mountains, Dya had him land on a mushroom. She had long since learned to keep the high ground out here. The wasps rarely flew high, and the more terrestrial threats wouldn’t be able to see her. She knew there were enemies beyond the wildlife in Zangarmarsh, such as broken draenei. There were also unbroken draenei who didn’t much care for elves. She’d learned that the hard way. She looked around, reveling in the rainy weather. It had been almost a year since she’d done a run in Zangarmarsh specifically, having been hurt by a squadron of draenei who’d called themselves the Alliance. That had been terrifying, but it hadn’t seemed to make Wa’tar think less of her. She furrowed her brows as the memory resurfaced. She hoped they wouldn’t still be out here.

She grabbed a bowl from her pack and set it down, filling it with water from her skin so Throk could have a drink. She didn’t want to bring him to the ground until he’d had a chance to rest, and to be honest she was growing hungry. Dya fixed her hair and searched her bag for the smoked salmon and wheat crackers Wa’tar had insisted she take. She shared it with Throk. She took a moment to stare up into the sky, into the rain and clouds.

It was cold. The rain was rarely ever warm in Zangarmarsh, but Dya still let herself enjoy it. It was peaceful. It pitter-pattered sweetly on the mushroom she reclined on. Despite the dangers below Dya could have some peace. She didn’t have to be worried that one of the orcs would spit insults at her and Wa’tar, that Dar’zok would show up to tell her how wonderful a time he’d had with Shagar. Though the tradeoff wound up being life threatening bugs and hostile draenei, she was okay with that. In moments like these she could just be. That was probably why she always begged Wa’tar to let her do these tasks with him, and now for him. She could explore and find quiet nooks all over the regions to think.

Dya sighed. It was time to get to work. She got on Throk’s back to get to the ground. The chore itself wouldn’t take long. She’d collected mushrooms and lakeweed for Wa’tar enough times now to know which ones he was looking for, but Zangarmarsh was different now. Dya wondered how she hadn’t noticed before. There had always been a road in Zangarmarsh, but there had never been a settlement. She had landed near the pass to Hellfire Peninsula, opting to do her mushroom hunting before setting out for the lakes. Near the pass she saw something most odd. Buildings. Had she truly been away for so long that a whole new town had been erected without her knowledge? How had they built such a tall tower, such a huge inn, in only a year?

She wondered if the people were hostile. She hoped they were friendly. She was careful as she approached, but she was still noticed. A tall violet woman – a night elf? Her father had told her about night elves – spotted her and flagged her down. She ran towards her, but she kept her weapons sheathed. All the same Dya grabbed her spear off her back and got ready, the threat of danger sparking an onslaught of adrenaline. The woman held her hands up.

“Whoa! Hold on, hold on, I mean you no harm! I didn’t mean to spook you.” Her orcish was heavily accented, so much so that Dya almost couldn’t understand her, “Who are you? We’ve had a few blood elves come through here, but I don’t recognize you,” Dya felt her brows furrow. Taken off guard, Dya lowered the spear just a tad. She appraised the woman. Long purple hair, bright glowing eyes. Relaxed muscles, sheathed weapons. Dya decided the woman was friendly, so she asked a question.

“What are blood elves?”

Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest decision on her part, but Dya followed the druid into the little town. She was brought into an inn and the druid sat Dya down with a drink and a blanket. A few people began fawning over Throk, much to his delight. He rather enjoyed the head pats and chin scratches. These strangers were nice. At the very least they were good at pretending to be nice. They asked her where she’s come from, and she told the truth: Nagrand. That only seemed to confuse them. She asked questions and they asked questions back, and by the time the whole thing ended Dya had even more questions than before.

Dya learned that the strangers were from Azeroth, like her. She learned that they were druids, though she needed the term explained to her. She listened to them talk, and they told her what had happened to Quel’thalas, why the people had renamed themselves to sin’dorei. They told her that people like her had become a rarity outside of Quel’thalas, and that many were hoping to create a new start here in Outland. Most importantly, they told her where others like her were. There was an outpost for the sin’dorei in Hellfire Peninsula. Some had gone to Shattrath, claiming to no longer support the prince. Others still joined a night elf who’d turned himself into a demon. She had trouble understanding that part through the other elf’s accent.

Dya left the little town reeling. Throk had stayed with her the whole way through, letting her lean on him for comfort. The druids had seen her distress, offered to let her stay the night there and send a message to Wa’tar if need be. They had, after all, been very curious to know why there was an elf who spoke Orcish better than Thalassian. She said no. She only asked where the other elves had gone because she wanted to see them herself.

Dya began to wonder if that was a bad idea. She had walked down the road with Throk, but she wasn’t sure how long she’d been walking. She didn’t know where she was, and as she looked around in a panic trying to find a familiar landmark, she heard shouting. Then the clank of metal on metal and the screams one heard before death. Had someone been attacked by an animal? Was there a fight going on? Should she investigate or run away? Dya didn’t know, but then she realized something.

They were screaming in Thalassian.

/*\

Taranis was with his squadron when the draenei hit.

He hadn’t been impressed with Zangarmarsh to begin with. The landscape itself was a droll shade of blue, like rainclouds on a sad day. The forests were made of mushrooms instead of trees, and venomous insects seemed to exist every which way the eye could see. That wasn’t even to acknowledge the Alliance enemies that encroached on the territory or the naga who even now tried to lay claim to the lakes across the valley.

He’d been on the back of his hawkstrider when he caught a glimpse of something shimmery. An arrow reflecting the light. He’d screamed at everyone to get down and dove to the ground just as the arrow embedded itself into the trunk of the mushroom behind him. Where his head would have been. It was truly disadvantageous, that the draenei could blend into the surroundings so effortlessly. He wondered why the Horde hadn’t abandoned the marsh for a different territory. But that didn’t matter right now.

He forced the Light to bend to his will, shielding him from arrows and blinding a man before him. As the draenei yelped in pain, stumbling backward as his eyes were rendered useless, Taranis took the opportunity to shove his sword through the horned man’s throat. He didn’t have time to feel horrified at himself, to watch as the arcane glow in his enemy’s eyes faded. There were still more attackers, and he still had more fighting to do.

Between potshots and attempted killing strikes it didn’t take Taranis long to realize just how outnumbered the five of them were. The fight was easily four to one, if not more. The man he’d downed had been replaced three-fold, and he knew he was in danger of falling prey to his fear. So long as he had the Light he’d be fine. That’s what he told himself, but the draenei had the Light too.

The battle was vicious. Just as he slew another attacker his commanding officer had been beheaded right before his very eyes. He had to roll to avoid getting speared through with a lance, but it didn’t do much. Gaivan and Tarina had managed to put a dent into the attacking force, until Tarina tripped on a body and Gaivan rushed to help her. Those mistakes had cost them their lives. Taranis managed to take three more of them down, but it was useless. The mage, Daneera, had taken a sword to the stomach, and she’d used to last of her power to incinerate as many of the attackers as she possibly could. In the end he was the only one left, and two draenei had escaped Daneera’s dying curse.

It had been an explosion. Taranis had been launched backward by the sheer force of Daneera’s fire, momentarily blinded and disoriented. He’d needed a moment to get his bearings, and that was all his enemies needed. They had gotten lucky. They’d been far enough away that they were able to dive behind a mushroom, the stench of burning fungi wafting in the air. They’d seen him get launched back, and when they realized he was still alive they jolted forward and stabbed him just above the hip. He’d fallen back, sitting against a mushroom, and his bleary eyes watched as one of the last two men raised an axe high above his head. This wasn’t how Taranis envisioned dying, but there wasn’t much else to be done. He braced himself for pain, hoping his family knew that he loved them and that he was sorry he couldn’t be coming home. He spared a thought to wish that he’d told his sister he didn’t like her new suitor. However, that wasn’t the end. Just as Taranis expected the axe to come down the horned man was attacked from the side.

A large wyvern had tackled him to the ground, and Taranis heard his screaming turn to sickened gurgles as the animal tore the draenei’s throat out. His gaze flickered to the final opponent, but he was preoccupied. Taranis’s eyes widened. There weren’t supposed to be any other sin’dorei in the marsh. He’d never seen the girl in front of him before. She called commands to the wyvern, but it did not assist her. Instead, it bolted over to Taranis. For a moment, the elf wondered if this was his end, but the wyvern did not attack him. It stood guard over him.

He watched as the girl, barely half the size of the draenei she fought, wove around her opponents’ feet. She pierced a spot in the armor, causing injury but the kind that was only a minor annoyance. But she kept doing it. She hit the draenei over the head. She stabbed at the ankle. She created a small incision on his tail. She caused so many little injuries that the draenei was having trouble defending himself, distracted by the stinging of all the little wounds she’d inflicted. Finally, the girl got her shot, and she lanced him through the neck.

Just like that it was over and when she turned to look at Taranis, she looked worried. Her eyes glittered a familiar shade of fel, the shade almost all sin’dorei now wore. Her hair hung long and brown to her hips, and when he took her hand to stand up, he found that she was even tinier than she initially seemed.

“Thank you,” he said, wincing as the movement worried his injury. She took notice and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She supported his weight as they walked back to the road, leaving the pile of corpses behind.

/*\

Dya had needed to ask the man which way to go. He told her that the Cenarion Expedition was the closest place to acquire medical aid, so that was the direction she went. She continued holding him, one arm slung around her shoulders, while she gingerly held him at the waist. She was a pointy-eared crutch, and she kept pace with him as he limped. He hissed with each breath, and she took note of the blood that leaked through his breastplate.

“What is your name?” she asked. Now that the battle was over, she noticed that the man was rather pretty. His hair hung long and blond over his shoulder. His eyes glittered green. His handsome face grimaced in annoyance as the wound continued bleeding.

“Taranis,” he exhaled, “And who are you? I’ve never seen you in Shattrath, or anywhere really.”

“You can call me Dya,” she answered hesitantly. She didn’t want to have to explain to him why she couldn’t speak Thalassian as well as he did. It had been almost four years since she’d had to use it. She made small talk with him, basic conversation as they walked to the little town near the pass. She told him a few jokes and a pun.

“- And the innkeeper said, ‘Lok’tar, Ogre,’” she paused, “Though I suppose that’s funnier in Orcish.”

“And how, exactly, is this meant to be distracting me from the pain?” he asked, not unkindly. Dya turned pink,

“It’s just what I was taught to do. It helps the injured feel like maybe it’s not that serious, so they relax, and the healing goes more smoothly.”

Taranis chuckled. Dya decided he had a nice laugh. They had finally made it to the town. Dya was relieved, exhaling as she passed Taranis off to the druid she’d met earlier. A tauren came up to her.

“What happened?” she asked,

“They were attacked,” Dya said, “He got hurt, so I brought him here.”

The tauren peered at her curiously but asked no further questions. Instead, she merely shooed Dya into the deep violet medical tent.

“Go with him, it’ll be good for him to know an ally is near.”

Despite her misgivings, Dya did as the tauren instructed. Would it really be helpful for him to have a stranger nearby? But the tauren persisted, cowing Dya into the tent. She closed the flap behind her and watched as the night elf tended to the wound. She was still in the process of getting Taranis’s armor off when Dya entered. Taranis blinked at her.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, looking at her with a deadened gaze. He didn’t seem upset, but he didn’t exactly seem comforted by her presence earlier. She was quickly regretting listening to the woman outside. She briefly considered bolting. Dya gulped.

“I was told my being here might help,” she said softly, “I don’t know how true that is.”

Taranis snorted, merely beckoning her forward. The night elf put his chestplate aside and instructed him to remove his shirt if he was capable. He wasn’t. The shirt was stuck to the wound, and Dya could see tears welling up in his eyes when the night elf accidentally pulled on it. He turned his face away from her. Dya immediately sat next to him while the night elf took a knife to the shirt.

“I liked that shirt,” he grumbled, the tears marring his voice. Dya couldn’t help the guilt. Her being there was definitely not helping, but Taranis had grabbed onto her hand, refusing to let go. Dya peeked over at the wound. It was seeping blood. Even though he’d used his own magic on the wound while they walked Dya couldn’t help but think it still looked awful. She couldn’t help the alarm that crossed her face when the druid said it needed to be cauterized. Taranis scoffed at her, but she could tell it was all bravado. She didn’t make mention of it as his voice quavered.

“How is it that you fought so well back there but you’re so squeamish at the sight of a little blood?” he teased. Dya averted her gaze.

“That…was my first real fight,” she admitted. Taranis blinked, seeming to momentarily forget that the healer had said ‘cauterize’.

“They sent you out here for your first mission?” he looked horrified, “What the hell were they thinking?! Who’s your commanding officer?” he paused, “How old are you?”

Dya couldn’t help her laughter, but she explained. Maybe this was where distraction would help? She’d been abandoned in the peninsula, Wa’tar had found her, she’d been living in Nagrand. She held his hand in both of hers as he cried out in pain when the night elf took a red-hot piece of metal to the stab wound. He asked her to talk to him more, his golden face paling. So she told him more, about how beautiful the rivers in Nagrand were, how she’d started hunting with Wa’tar at thirteen. She told him she was getting ready for the adulthood rite that Wa’tar insisted she be allowed to participate in. She was careful not to say much more.

“Oh, I thought you were much younger,” he remarked, breathing heavily and still a bit pale, “I was conscripted at fifteen, shortly after Arthas killed everyone. It’s hard to believe that was only two years ago now,” Taranis got a faraway look in his eyes, and Dya felt her brows furrow.

“What…does Quel’thalas look like now?” she asked softly. Taranis shook his head with what energy he had left. He gently squeezed her hand.

“You don’t wanna know,” he slurred, his eyelids drooping. The green glow in each iris was beginning to fade, and he had somehow gone even paler. Dya panicked.

“What’s going on? Is he okay? What does that mean?” she interrogated the druid. The night elf merely laughed,

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she assured, “He just needs a little rest. He’ll be fine. Cauterizing a stab wound is tiring for everyone involved. If you like you can stay with him. Just no naughty stuff yeah?” she winked, and left Dya with the injured man.

Dya wasn’t sure what the night elf had meant by naughty stuff, but she remembered that she hadn’t collected a single mushroom for Wa’tar. She swore to herself. She debated whether she should send Throk back with a message. On the one hand, she’d be able to let Wa’tar know she was okay. On the other, Wa’tar might take Throk’s presence as a warning and not even bother with the note. If he even noticed it. Dya sighed.

This mushroom picking adventure had not gone according to plan. She didn’t even have the lakeweed. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to get around to it. Maybe she could buy rations from the inn? Then Dya remembered: she hadn’t brought any money. There weren’t supposed to be people out here.

Dya resigned herself to her new responsibility, Throk waiting patiently at the tent flap. He’d curled up into a ball for a nap, and she watched as one of the druids placed a little pillow beneath his head. He looked awfully comfortable. She smiled at him and contemplated getting dinner from the bag on his back when the tauren from earlier came in with a plate of food and a bowl of soup.

“Oh, he’s asleep then,” the woman remarked, her tail swishing. Dya nodded,

“I think the cauterizing really took it out of him,” Dya remarked. Her gaze kept sliding back to his face, so like her own but not. She’d almost forgotten what other elves looked like. The tauren laughed.

“Cauterization can do that. Do you know him?”

Dya only shook her head. The tauren sighed.

“Well, I’m sure your presence here is welcome anyhow,” she said, “sometimes having your own people around can be a comfort whether they’re familiar or no. Stay with him. It might help the healing process go a little easier,” the tauren’s suggestion sounded more like a command.

Dya just murmured her affirmation that she would stay, and the tauren handed her a plate of food. She inspected it, unsure what it was at first. The tauren laughed again.

“Usually, it’s just chunks of mushroom in spices, but a kind soul went fishing for us. So now, we have chunks of mushroom and fish, and for the man some fish and mushroom soup,”

“If he doesn’t wake up, can I eat the soup?” Dya said, grinning.

The tauren snickered, merely saying she could bring more, and left Dya to her dinner. She ate quickly, throwing the fish skin to Throk. He yawned happily before resuming his nap. Dya sat by Taranis’s cot, watching the even rise and fall of his chest. He had a few scars already, and he wasn’t much older than her. She could feel her brows furrowing. Would she have shared his fate had she not gotten lost in Outland? Would she have been forced into a war at only fifteen too? Would she even be alive now if that had been the case?

Dya had so many questions, and few to no answers. For now, she did what she could, and that meant staying with the wounded elf until he woke.

#talesfromthan'rel #sin'dorei #quel'dorei #wra #wyrmrest accord #wyrmrest accord rp #elf rp

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lynnafred · 4 years ago

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Another @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt done just before the deadline! (Damn you, work schedule!)

I had so much fun working with characters on the back burner last week that I decided to do it again this week! Varis and friends are very happy for the attention! And, really, I forgot how nice this little crew is to work with. This one capped out at just over 900 words, and uses one of my favorites from Varis’ story - Portia, a spunky halfling with lots of personality.

Portia wasn’t sure what it was she was seeing, but it was beautiful.

She’d been warned her whole life that elven forests were places of treacherous mischief and traps, eager to lure away unwise adventurers and greedy thieves to certain doom. The stories she’d heard passed down from her relatives had always said that the forests were dark, unwelcoming spaces, meant only for their kind.

Her eyes reflected the sparkling in the clearing before her, and she was certain in that moment that the stories she’d heard had never been more wrong. She turned to her companion and her grin broke wide across her face. “Varis!” She pointed at the clearing before them. “They’re gorgeous.”

Varis’ smile was more melancholy than hers as he watched her from the edge of the clearing, but she found it hard to be melancholy when she was so thrilled with the sight in front of her. The flowers sparkled in the moonlight, each giving off their own sliver of light in the otherwise empty clearing. They glittered like stars, and made her feel peaceful.

Portia nestled herself among them, letting the glow of the flowers surround her, and for just a moment, she felt normal again. For a moment, she could forget that she was dying.

It wasn’t long until she heard Varis’ footsteps beside her, and saw him sit beside her in the clearing. “There’s a history to these flowers, you know,” he said.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and gave him a questioning noise.

“Long ago, it was said that something from another realm came and hit the earth, leaving the seeds for these flowers deep within its surface. As time went on, the depths that these flowers were found in were the same underground areas that dark elves settled. They hated the light that the flowers gave off – it reminded them of the surface that they’d been banished from, and so they set out to eradicate them.”

She looked out over the clearing of flowers. “That’s terrible… They didn’t succeed, did they?”

“They almost did,” he replied. “It’s said that worshippers of Eilistraee gathered the seeds that they could find and distributed them among themselves for safekeeping until they could get back to the surface and replant them,” he said. She watched as he cautiously reached out and ran his hand along one, as though he was afraid it’d burn him. “Today, when worshippers of Eilistraee come to the surface and heard her song for the first time, it’s said that they plant one of these flowers where they could be sure she could find it. It’s their way of returning her gifts back to her.”

Portia turned to watch Varis as he ran his fingertips along the flowers. He was so delicate with them, like he was afraid of tarnishing their beauty. “How did you learn about them?”

His smile shifted to something warmer, then. “I have a… I have a friend who taught me about them once. If you pick them and dry them, they crystalize on their own.”

She made a small gasp and turned her attention back to the flowers. “That’s incredible. They crystalize?”

He nodded, picking one of the flowers and tucking it behind Portia’s ear. “They do. It’s said that they’re even more beautiful once they’re dried and catch the light of the sun.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye as he turned his attention back to the flowers.

She hadn’t been traveling with him alone for long – just since they’d left Rosemary and Hrímdorn – but there was no doubt in her mind that Varis was incredibly kind, albeit a bit naïve. She smiled at herself for the thought that she’d found the one being on the planet more naïve than a halfling. And though that might be true, Varis was more knowledgeable about things than she was, and had a much better sense of direction.

She had picked a good travel partner for the last leg of her journey.

“And if you take that dried flower and crush it, legend says that you can recreate a small amount of the stardust that breathed life into these flowers in the first place.”

Portia’s hand reached up to touch the flower tucked behind her ear. It felt different than she expected, softly textured like velvet but hard to the touch like the blade of her dagger. She could see how it would crystalize instead of dry out like a normal flower. “Won’t someone be mad that you took one of their flowers?”

There was a rustle as Varis pulled an instrument out of his pack and set it on his lap. “I think Eilistraee would be fine with it, as long as we give her something else in return, don’t you?” he asked. “Why don’t you sing a song with me as a thank you? We’ll rest here tonight, in a protected space, and head out in the morning.”

She wasn’t sure how well protected this place was – benevolent dark elven gods were almost legend for a reason – but she decided to trust Varis on this one. He seemed to believe in Eilistraee, or at least acknowledge her existence, and that was good enough for her. “Sure,” she said at last, tucking herself into the safety of Varis’ side. “Pick a song, and let’s say thank you.”

#fff64 #flash fiction friday #Lynnafred writes #My writing #writeblr #the stories are all technically D&D 5e compliant because that's what it was originally written for #so like... kudos to me ig lol

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fireintheforest · 5 years ago

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Fight

The door to the Den opened one hour earlier from its normal opening hours. A Redguard woman and her Altmer companion entered, both talking in what at first sounded as an argument.

“-just how you get hit by a rock and don’t feel the blood!”

“Amara, one is fine, it’s nothing. One has had worst.”

“Didn’t you check?”

“One did, it wasn’t bleeding and it doesn’t even notice. You didn’t see it until one tied one’s hair up.” The pair went up the stairs and to the bedrooms, continuing the conversation.

“So you were just going to let it go on?”

“Of course not, one didn’t even know it was there.” Somewhere amidst the various people getting ready for the night in makeup, jewelry, perfumes, silks, leathers and laces, Rialas’s laugh ringed above the noise.

“Let me see it.”

“Amara, you already saw it. One is fine.”

“Let me see it again, I just got a brief glance.”

He rolled his eyes, but nonetheless entered Amara’s room, followed by her. He got on his knees, bowed his head and moved his hair forward, his hands keeping it from sliding back.

“Don’t touch one’s hair, though. Please.”

“Not gonna…” Amara’s reply wasn’t completed, but she added “Huh so…it looks ok? I mean, I can see the cut and you’ll have a bruise for a bit. But it’s not bleeding.”

“Of course not. One told you one was fine.” He stood up and pushed his hair back, “Get ready, one will do the same. One will wash it off, change one’s clothes and it’ll be like nothing happened.”

“If you say so. See you out there.” Amara replied as Saufinril stepped out of the room.

Having that happened some hours ago, at the present moment Amara was talking with customers while Saufinril was with the bartender. Jagga after jagga after jagga got served at the bar while the acrobats made their alluring number to an awes crowd. Saufinril had just gotten back to the bar after cleaning some tables when Muraz slid to him.

“No.” Saufinril replied at once

“Hey-oh, you rude little thing! I hadn’t even told you what I need.”

“One just needs to guess. Are you going to, let’s see, sneak out and need one to distract your mother?”

“No. For once, no.”

Saufinril put the pitcher down, eyebrows arched and a grin in his face.

“Well, look who is growing up!”

“Oh, shut up.”

“When are you paying taxes?”

“The day you stop rubbing charcoal on your eyes. You look like a spectre.”

“Excuse you, but it took one a good while to master the art of makeup and one will not be disrespected or antagonized tonight by a child.”

“It took you long and all you came up with was that?”

“Begone, whore! What do you want?”

“What is this that I hear of a battlewound?”

“Pure lies, because one hasn’t had anyone suck one’s neck in a while.”

“No-you call one a whore while your mind parties in the gutter. Obscene mer. You and your filthy morals. Step aside, lest you dirty my innocence.”

“What innocence, how dare you? Saying that with a straight face, as if our professions had swapped.” Muraz laughed, and when it died down, Saufinril served a patron and continued, “Some…man threw a rock at one just because one collided with him.”

“What were you looking to achieve with that?”

“Nothing! It was an accident.”

“Oh. He threw a rock?”

“Yeah, like an animal.”

“What did you do?”

“One was going to fight him but the ninny had bodyguards, plus got the Thalmor on top of one. Imagine, the brat threw one a rock and stepped back for his guards to deal with it!”

“What a fool. Hey, it’s not that I don’t think you couldn’t take him and his friends easily, because you could, but I’m glad you got stopped. Lest you got in bigger trouble.”

“Mmh. So, slow night?”

“Looks like it.” Muraz looked around, “Amara seems to be luring those sailors, and Elias is upstairs with a marriage, but otherwise it’s slow.”

“But one saw some people-”

Saufinril was interrupted when Lienil turned to him and exclaimed, to hear herself above the chatting and music, to take an order back to a table by the 3rd row from the stage.

“Coming up!” Saufinril pulled the glasses and started to serve the drinks. Muraz went on, “Did you tell the boss? Or Rialas?”

“No, it wasn’t that big of a deal. One’s bruise will heal in two days or so and nothing else happened from it so it’s not important.”

“Fair enough.” Muraz observed Saufinril prepare the drinks and set them on a tray before asking, “Hey, I need some advice-”

“Ah, um-let one deliver this and then one will be back to listen.” Saufinril picked up the tray and moved towards the table indicated (and he did not feel a bitter tug when he realized the table he had to serve was the table where Kartan dumped him), where he started serving the 2 jaggas and 3 rotmeths. The table had two Breton men, one female Bosmer and two male Dunmer. The Bosmer, the second she saw him, gave him a smile.

“Thank you, dear.” She had a nice, light voice, “Not that many Altmer that aren’t Thalmor in here, hmm?”

Saufinril not only chose not to answer, but was also beat to it by one of her male companions, who leaned towards her and whispered to her ear.

“Let him be, Nasli. Focus on the thing at hand, please? For once.”

The Dunmeris on the other end of the table caught his ear. Maybe he was rusty in it, but he thought he caught some words like “believe her?”, “No”, “fake wounds” and “father”. Saufinril did a quick glance to her wrists (indeed wrapped in bandages) and then a discreet glance at the Dunmer as he served the drinks. They didn’t look like inexperienced scoundrels nor sound like common brutes, so chances are they were with the Guild. The first Dunmer had both sides of his head shaved, probably to show off the Valor tattoo in the left side of him. He also possessed a sharp nose and big eyes. The other Dunmer looked older than the first, his hair reached his shoulders but that didn’t keep Saufinril from noticing the scar that went from the right side of his neck, under his jaw, to the front towards the collarbone. Nor did it keep him from seeing the sharp cheekbones.

“So!” The younger Dunmer said in Common, turning to the other three people and looking interested, “Greenheart, huh?”

The sudden change from quiet Dunmeris to cheerful Common made Saufinril look at the Dunmer again, only to run into the older Dunmer’s gaze looking at him directly. He’d probably gotten too close for the Dunmer’s taste and was uncomfortable with the proximity. But that was a nice, sharp eye shape he had. Saufinril placed the last drink, “Anything else one can help you with?”

“That’d be it, thanks.” The other man replied glumly. Avoiding the Dunmer’s gaze, Saufinril gave a quick nod and turned around, leaving at once. He still felt stares on his back but acted like it wasn’t so, heading to the bar.

Indeed, the last Dunmer had held his gaze while the waiter walked away. The Dunmer’s sight lowered from the Altmer’s head, to the hair, then shoulders, back, lower back and the….jackpot. Nice.

Muraz was not at the bar anymore, so Saufinril went on to clean tables. Half an hour later, back at the bar, he was setting aside some empty bottles of rotmeth when he heard someone ordering behind him:

“Hey, a bottle of jagga and a rotmeth. Move it, come on. I don’t have all night.”

Saufinril turned to snap back at the rude customer.

“Well look!” the ginger Imperial sneered, an arm around Samin, the Bosmer girl with the slanted, fully black eyes, “Should’ve recognized you from that bruise. Hopefully you’re less of a klutz while working. Move it! Unless I tell your boss and get you fired.”

M’Azina, another bartender, caught that and just scoffed quietly under her breath at that before moving back to the customer she was attending. The ginger adversary was surrounded by two other men, both Breton, (none of which were the bodyguards from earlier) and two other girls that worked here.

“Well? Move it!”

Saufinril pulled out a vase he had at hand, then placed it in front of him so it was between himself and the rude man. He took the bottle of rotmeth, opened it, served the liquid, put it away-

“Approach it to my hand! Do you expect me to reach all the way there and grab it? I’ll look like an idiot! You suck at this job. You can’t do anything right. You high elves claim racial superiority wh-”

He was cut off when Saufinril grabbed him by the hair and slammed him headfirst into the glass, which broke with a clashing sound, sending rotmeth and blood flying. Samin yelled and stepped back, as Saufinril lifted him again and slammed him a second time. The adversary, having been caught by surprise, grabbed Saufinril’s wrist but the third slam to the table and glass came anyways. One of the ginger’s companions threw a punch at Saufinril, who dodged (while pressing the ginger to the table, who was screaming at the top of his lungs) and punched the second man with his free hand. He staggered and hit one of the Dunmer from the earlier table that were on their way out, making its mohawked companion punch the man. The older Dunmer grabbed his buddy’s shoulder, starting to instruct him not to do anything, when the man punched back. Then the older Dunmer punched the human.

Meanwhile, after Saufinril had punched the man that was now fighting two Dunmer, the ginger escaped his grip, causing Saufinril to jump over the counter . In less time than Lienil expected, around 6 people were fighting at the same time-no, wait. Seven. An Argonian got involved and her two other mates were trying to stop her, the Dunmer had ganged up on the man, the other man had run out of the Den with a bloody nose, and Saufinril was beating the ginger while yelling in Altmeris like he was possessed.

“Nuh-uh! No!” Mama Fro’s voice came over the chaos, “Rialas, get your husband!”

Rialas, however, was more invested in egging the fight on from the balcony that oversaw the Den, his laugh ringing like a bird’s call in the forest.

“The legs! Throw him to the ground, kynd, the legs!” he yelled. Indeed, the next moment the ginger was on the ground and Saufinril was straddling him. Punches and kicks hit his body all around, bit his biggest focus was on punching, scratching, slapping, hurting the Imperial’s body while he held his hands up in protection and called for help.

“Saufinril, no!” Muraz yelled next to him, pulling him up even as the Altmer resisted.

“I’m dying! Help! I got attacked!” the ginger wailed. The fight thinned; the Argonians dragged their friend out and back to their table, Lienil was kicking the Dunmer out and the other human took to helping his ginger friend up.

“He can’t even stand up!” Rialas laughed. When he saw the adversary stand up and limp to the exit, Saufinril wiggled free from Muraz’s grip. Another hand, nevertheless, grabbed him firmly by the arm. Saufinril turned to snap at whoever had grabbed him to let him go, only to run into Lillandril’s stern blue eyes.

#fourth era sau #in which Sau gets in a fist fight #this is the LONGEST I feel I've ever written holy shit #omg #in which Toivon makes a guest appearance #'he's nice' is introduced in a bar fight #tw: blood #tw: violence #redguard #orsimer #altmer #bosmer #khajiit #argonian #dunmer #breton #enjoy I guess lmao #meh-ayleidion #thatoneshadyshop

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furtheradvofsanta · 6 years ago

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Santa Claus Letter 2018

So for years, starting in the 1920s, JRR Tolkien would write letters to his children as Father Christmas, including fanciful drawings and tales of FC and his friend, the North Polar bear, exploding the Northern Light gunpowder or fighting goblins.

Upon the birth of my own nephew a few years ago, I decided I would steal this idea. Even though he is only a few years old, nevertheless I composed a letter for him from Santa Claus. Theoretically, I will continue to do this, making the letters longer and more intricate as he gets older until he decides they’re stupid and that they should stop.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the skill for drawing or fancy lettering that Tolkien did, so I just had to type it up. Maybe future letters can include drawings.

This one is way late and the stores are all full of Valentine’s stuff by now, but I still haven’t seen the neph for Christmas yet, so this got put off a little in favor of other holiday stuff. I hope you will forgive. This year I decided to do a bit of a riff on one of the most famous parts of Tolkien’s Father Christmas letters, I guess because it amused me.

Anyway, I thought I would share it with you here under the cut (even though it does give away some of my Santa Claus secrets!). Feel free to reblog this, or if you want, to use it as a template and alter it for use with a child you know and love, but please do not republish this without my permission. Thankssss.

You can read 2015′s letter here, 2016’s letter here, and 2017′s letter here.

Santa’s Workshop Beyond the Riphean Mountains Beyond the North Wind True North Pole December 22, 2018

My dearest [name],

Four Christmases! It almost sounds like a movie. By now all of the usual Christmas routine must be old hat for you. You know all the steps: hang your stocking, put up a tree, deck the halls, leave out cookies and milk (or oranges!), open presents, roller skate to church at midnight, all of it! (My apprentice Pete, who is an expert in all things Christmas, is reading over my shoulder and he says I am mistaken about that last one, with the rollerskating. He says that is what they do in Venezuela, which is a country in South America, and not something they do in [state]. My mistake! I have so many children to take care of that sometimes it is hard to remember what they like to do at Christmas. Rollerskating sounds fun, though.)

I hope you have had a good year and are excited about Christmas. I will do my best to fill your stocking and your Christmas tree with all the things you want this year, because you have, as always, been very good. If I make a mistake, however, and you get something you don't want, like a jar full of dirty socks or a doll that makes stinky burps in your face, that is because it has been a very strange year this year here at the North Pole.

We don't get many uninvited guests here at the True North Pole. For one thing, it's very hard to find. Many people use the wrong map or compass and end up at places that they call the Magnetic North Pole or the Geographic North Pole. Those places don't even really have a pole! Ridiculous. If you really want to find the True North Pole, with my workshop and the real red and white striped pole, you have to know where to look. All children know in their hearts where the True North Pole is; most adults have forgotten.

To really find your way here, you must pass through the Riphean Mountains, which are also hard to find on most maps. Some people come to the Riphean Mountains because they have heard they are full of gold. This is true; the mountains themselves are full of gold that could be mined, but the caves within are also full of the vast hoards of gold that belong to our friends the griffins. Some of that gold is in the form of coins that come from us at the workshop. Did you know that for much of the year the antlers of our magic reindeer are covered in gold? It's true; it's been that way since the time of their oldest ancestor thousands of years ago. But they shed the gold casing before Christmas and that's why you don't usually see them that way. We take the gold that they shed and turn it into coins, some of which we give to Lunicursor, the king of the griffins, partly as a show of friendship, and partly to repay him for the service he does for us in bringing us broken toys he finds while flying around so that we can repair them and find new homes for them.

Anyway, gold hunters who make their way to the Riphean Mountains will find that it is very dangerous, not only because of the many griffins who make their home there, but also due to the one-eyed monsters who are constantly at war with the griffins for the gold. The sight of either a giant, greedy one-eyed beast or a host of winged, beaked, taloned lions is usually enough to scare off even the most intrepid of treasure hunters, so as I said, we don't receive many unexpected visitors.

That's not to say we never get them, however. Did you know there is a Christmas dragon? Well, there is, but he's probably not what you would expect. He doesn't look much like the grand and scary dragons in storybooks. Instead this dragon, who is called the Badalisc, looks more like a very large and very long furry worm, with striped fur, two little horns like goat horns, glowing red eyes, and a very large chomping mouth. Normally he makes trouble for the people in a valley in northern Italy, but some years ago, he managed to make his way to the workshop. All woods in the world are connected if you know where to walk, so he must have found the right spot in his valley to emerge into the silver fir forest around the workshop. At any rate, he made us a great deal of trouble, chomping away at all our Christmas treats, but fortunately, as I said, my apprentice Pete knows all about Christmas, and so he knew how we could trap him.

The Badalisc, it turns out, can be lured out of hiding by beautiful women and entranced by music. The first duty was performed by Mrs. Claus and some of our braver elf women, who stood at various places around the forest until the Badalisc was found. Then Pete's younger brother Music Pete played a tune on a pipe and drum that hypnotized the great beast. Once the dragon was frozen place, the Krampus and some of the other friendly monsters who live up here were able to wrestle him to the ground and tie him up.

One of the things the Badalisc does at Christmas back in his Italian valley is compose a poem that says mean things about everyone in the village and hurts their feelings. He tried to do that to us, but as it happens, we have our own master poet here named Rhyme Pete (all of Pete's brothers are also named Pete) who himself wrote a poem about how the dragon was hurting other people's feelings and that he needed to be more considerate. The Badalisc felt ashamed after that, but to cheer him up and to show there were no hard feelings, Pete's brother Chef Pete made the Badalisc a big bowl of his favorite food, salami and polenta (which is kind of like fancy grits, and very common in Italy). Afterwards, we had our friend the woodsman Belsnickel take the Badalisc back home.

That was a number of years ago, and things have mostly been fairly peaceful since. Not this year, though. This year we got far more than one unwanted guest. But before I tell you about that, however, I have to tell you about a very special tree.

Picture the biggest tree you've ever seen. Could you see the top of it? Did it stretch far into the sky? Did its branches reach far out over the ground, casting shadows, inviting you to climb? Well, picture a tree much, much bigger. A tree big enough that whole worlds could hang on it like Christmas ornaments. This is the World Tree, and in its branches rest the Nine Worlds. This is not the same as the nine planets, like Jupiter and Mars (Mrs. Claus is reading over my shoulder now and she says that there are only eight planets. My mistake! I don't visit other planets very frequently, though I have been to Mars a few times and I visit my friend the Man in the Moon as often as I can. Maybe if there turn out to be children on Neptune or Saturn, I'll send Pete out there to deliver gifts. I think he'd like that), but rather other realms where different magical creatures live. The Nine Worlds include the Giants' Home, the Light Elves' Home, the Dark Elves' Home (where our workshop elves come from), the World of Mist, the World of Fire, and, of course, Earth, where we live.

The branch of the World Tree that holds up the Earth runs right through the center of the planet like the top and bottom of a globe, and the tip of it pokes out at the very top, the true top, of the world. This is what we have carved and painted into the shape and color of the famous North Pole. The other thing you need to know about the World Tree is that at the base of it is a whole army of little gremlins who spend most of the year trying to cut the World Tree down, hoping to destroy all Nine Worlds.

Normally what happens is that on the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year, these gremlins make their way up to Greece and make trouble for all of the twelve days of Christmas. They will climb into people's homes through the chimney and start breaking furniture, or gobbling up Christmas dinner, or spitting in food, and just generally scaring the people inside. Sometimes they will jump on a person's back and make them dance until they get really tired. They are, as you can see, very bothersome pests to have around.

Well, this year, instead of going to Greece, some of these gremlins decided to climb up the World Tree to see what they could find. Coming to the very tip of the branch that holds the Earth, they came out at the North Pole, and very soon we had a problem. They had made their way into the workshop and were breaking toys and decorations and eating all the delicious cookies and candies we were making for good children. Even the Krampus and the other friendly beasts weren't of much use against them. Although our furry friends are quite large, strong, and fearsome, all their strength was no good against these swarms of scurrying imps that they couldn't catch. We were very worried, because if they had made their way down into the elves' toy factory, they could have done damage to the powerful forges we have down there, which are fueled by very potent energy from within the Earth. If the forges had been damaged, they might have exploded, destroying the whole workshop! We would have had to rebuild and we might not have had Christmas until July or August, which I think we can agree is far too late to have Christmas. (You might have heard of Christmas in July, but usually that's in addition to regular Christmas, not instead of it.)

Fortunately, the gremlins never made their way to the forges, because we have Pete, expert in all things Christmas. He knew that the gremlins could be distracted by their love of counting, so the elves offered them all the counting toys they could find or quickly cobble together. Unfortunately, usually the goal of this is to distract the gremlins until the sun comes up and they turn to stone, and at this time of year the sun doesn't come up at all at the North Pole! We needed another solution. People in Greece often drive off the gremlins by putting a special Christmas log in their fireplace and burning it. The gremlins can't stand the smell, so they run away. I don't know much about the special plants of Christmas, but fortunately I don't have to, because that is the specialty of my wonderful and brilliant wife, Mrs. Claus. She knew exactly the kind of wood we would need, and soon every fireplace in the workshop was smoking away with these logs that the gremlins hate, which sent them scrambling.

In Greece, the way they finally make these gremlins go away after the twelve days of Christmas is that the local priest will bless the water in the rivers, ponds, springs, and so on all around. The gremlins cannot stand the blessed water, and so they will flee back to the World Tree. There aren't any rivers or lakes at the North Pole, but there is very very much snow, which as you know is just made of frozen water. I was able to take my old bishop's staff from my time as Saint Nicholas and bless all the snow from here to the Riphean Mountains. This sent all the gremlins scurrying like they had burned their hands on the stove back down the World Tree. Hopefully by the time they get back down to the trunk, the tree will have fully healed itself and they'll have to begin their chopping all over again.

And so, as I said before, if you get something very strange for Christmas, like a doll with three arms and no head, this is likely the handiwork of gremlins, who we just drove out yesterday. We only have a few days to get everything right, so I hope you get everything you want. However, if what you want for Christmas is to have a wonderful family who loves and cares for you very much, I can promise you that you will have that this and every Christmas without fail.

See you soon!

Your dear friend, Santa Claus

#prose #santa claus letter #santa claus #benito cereno

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sweetteaanddragons · 6 years ago

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One Deed More

The rain drove him from the coast eventually.

Storms Maglor might have been willing to put up with. Proper, raging storms would have suited him nicely. A constant drizzle of miserable rain, however, he could only put up with for so long. He wandered inland in the hopes of getting out of the rain, and after that, there was simply no reason to stop.

He stayed away from the roads and from anywhere that looked too appealing, reasoning that others might have made their way there. He chose harder paths for himself, a decision that eventually led him in the direction of the mountains.

Every so often, he would run into someone. He would lurk around their camp for the sake of company and listen to what news he could, but it happened rarely enough, and he was never sure what news he could trust.

At long last, he came to the mountain pass, and he meant to hurry on. It was too likely that he would meet travelers here.

He did run into travelers. Of a sort.

Personally, Maglor was reluctant to give so benign a title to orcs. Especially when those orcs were so busy toying with a prisoner.

There were too many of them to fight head on. His sword was in good condition - of course it was, it had been made by his father, it could take far more damage than Maglor had put it through - but it was still only one sword. His voice could do more, but he would prefer not to put it so directly to the test . . .

It was only then that he realized what he was doing. What automatic assumption he had made.

He was not, he reminded himself, a hero. No one expected him to go charging in to single handedly save the elleth being tormented by the orcs.

She cried out as a bone snapped, and all thoughts of hero or villain fled his mind.

He had not been able to save his brother; perhaps he could save her. If he failed and died, little would be lost.

Not in a stupidly glorious charge. They had learned that lesson long ago. Instead, he settled deep into the shadows and waited for the night to fade to the grey of dawn.

The hours dragged on. He forced himself to watch and listen, even though it made the wait that much more unbearable.

When the sun began to peek through the mountains, he started a low song. Nothing much. Just something to lure the orcs quickly into sleep. Softly, now. Gently. No need for alarm . . .

When all that was left awake was one weary sentry, it was a simple matter to slit his throat.

Music didn't discriminate. The elleth was asleep too, but that was all to the good. There was less chance she would cry out in startlement.

He sawed through the ropes holding her quickly enough and was thankful her captors had lacked chains.

He could simply stab all the orcs in their sleep, he supposed, but his trust in his song was not that great.

Once, perhaps, but now . . .

Best not to risk it.

He kept humming it though. He had to, if there was any chance of getting them out alive. He had to carry her, of course, but even though she was thinner than she had probably been before her capture, Maglor was hardly well fed himself. He staggered under even her slight weight, but there were no other options. He adjusted her weight, gritted her teeth, and went on.

He went as far as he could. When he could go no further, he collapsed to his knees and laid her down gently on the moss covered roots of an ancient tree. There was little cover around them. This was the best he could do.

It was only then that he realized she was awake and staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Hello," he said as gently as he could remember how. He tried to smile. Judging by her flinch he hadn't managed it right.

Normally, this was where an introduction would go, but he hardly thought that would be comforting to her under the circumstances.

"We've a decent lead on them now," he said instead. "We should be safe." He wasn't sure if he actually believed that, but he hoped she could.

It was at that moment that he realized he had no idea where he should be going. He had heard elvish travelers mention various settlements in passing, but he had no idea where those settlements actually were.

Nor did he have any idea how he could get her there without being seen himself, but - Well, if he was seen, there was once again not much lost. Probably Mandos would not hold anyone guilty for slaying him.

"I don't suppose you know a safe direction to head in?" he asked lightly.

"Imladris," she finally said in a hoarse whisper. "I was going - They'll be expecting me in Imladris."

Her voice shook and cracked, and he cursed his own stupidity. "Your pardon, lady," he said, and he hastened to offer her water from the skin he had hanging on his belt.

She took it with shaking hands - and they weren't just shaking, at least two of her fingers were surely broken.

"I'm doing this all wrong," he realized. He had been on his own with no hurts but his own to consider for far too long. "I am no healer, but if you will allow me, I will do what I can before we move on." He tried the smile again. She didn't flinch that time, so perhaps it had improved.

He sang as he worked, both to encourage healing and to try to set her more at ease.

The healing worked, at least to an extent. The ease . . . .

"I have never heard a voice like yours," she said. "Not even in Imaldris."

It did not sound like a compliment.

He hoped dearly that she was not old enough to associate a strong voice with Maglor Feanorian. Surely other bards had surpassed him since.

Failing that, maybe she would at least mistake him for the other lost bard of the elves, who, if no saint, was at least less terrifying.

"Speaking of Imladris," he said, "which way should we be heading for it?" He dearly hoped the answer wasn't over the mountains. For one thing, they had no supplies for a journey of that magnitude. For another, the orcs were between them and the pass, and they had been going the wrong way all day.

She pushed herself back against the tree despite the movement the pain must have caused her. "What elf does not know the way to Imladris?"

By her expression, the answer was clearly not anyone who could be trusted.

"One who has come from far away?" he tried.

But she was clearly lost in memory, shaking her head frantically. "I will not tell you, I will not, you will never find it, never - "

He struggled to remember the songs that had once soothed Maedhros when he was caught up in memories of his own questioning. He sang the first notes that came to mind, desperately trying to soothe her.

"Peace, lady, peace," he said quietly as she at last calmed. "I mean no harm."

She stared at him with equal desperation. "I - " She paused, clearly at war with herself, practicality battling well earned paranoia. "Swear to me," she finally said, voice still hoarse from pain. "Swear to me that you mean neither Imladris nor anyone in it harm."

Maglor reared back.

It . . . was not an unreasonable request. It was not her fault that it went against every instinct he had left.

But he was once forsworn already, and surely there was nothing worse than Everlasting Darkness. What harm could an Oath to do no harm cause? At the worst, it would leave him unable to defend himself, and he'd already decided there was no great evil in that.

"I swear by the unreachable stars that I mean no harm to you or yours," he said and tried not to shudder as the unthinkable words of an oath fell from his mouth.

But she relaxed and told him how to reach their haven from here.

It was still some distance away, he realized grimly. If the orcs tracked them, it might go ill.

But they would try. They would have to try. He had fought far more impossible odds.

"Forward then," he said with forced cheer. He doubted the facade was very good, but she was in no condition to be particularly discerning. "If I may?"

She allowed him to pick her up without protest, though she winced in pain at the motion. Still, it was easier with her hands now able to latch around his neck.

"Might I ask who I am sworn to?" he asked. Knowing his luck, she would turn out to be - Oh, Sauron's secret half-Maia child or some such. Improbable, admittedly, but not altogether impossible.

"I am called Celebrian," she said quietly. She offered no further detail, either because she felt her family something best kept hidden or because she expected the name to be enough. Judging by what must have once been very fine clothes, it was quite possibly the latter.

The name, however, meant nothing to him. "A lovely name," he said as he walked forward and tried to convince himself that his muscles didn't burn. "These days I am afraid I am only rarely called anything, and even more rarely anything fit for polite company, so you may call me what you wish."

He half hoped she would call him something, just so he could have a hint as to if she had guessed his true identity, but when he looked down at her continued silence, it was to see that she was once more asleep.

#tolkien #maglor #celebrian #alternate universe #fix-it fic

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we-were-legends · 6 years ago

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“Champion’s dawn”

Chapter 39 - “Brothers we used to be”

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Oropher woke up and he immediately sensed that he was not alone in his bedroom. And he was sure he was alone when he went to sleep before.

He opened his eyes and frowned immediately spotting well known elf sitting at the end of his bedding. He sat with one leg bended and he examined a thing he held in his hands, handling it delicately. It was a thing that belonged to Oropher and was very dear to him.

'Don't touch Nínim.' Oropher said or more growled and Amdír immediately looked at him and half-smiled.

'You never liked when someone was touching him.' Amdír said as he reached out and layed a teddy near the middle of the bed. Oropher rised up to sit and glanced at his teddy woodchuck - Ninim was with him since he remembered and all his cousins had their own unique teddy as well. Celeborn had a squirell with a big ginger tail, Galathil had a crab with too big claws, Amdír had a red fox, but Oropher didn't know if his older cousin decided to keep it, and Arvellon had a brown weasel with a wide clever smile.

It was truth, when he was a kid he never really liked when someone was touching his teddy though with his family it was acceptable. Unless he was angry with them, then they couldn't pick up Nínim and Oropher made sure that they didn't. His father respected his wishes and Oropher even suspected that it was a bit amusing for him. But even when Oropher did something he was not supposed to as a child, his father never dared to take a teddy away from him - Nínim was untouchable.

After his fast musing, Oropher then turned his eyes on Amdír.

'Why are you here?' he asked still without enough kindness in his voice. He grabbed Nínim and placed him on the shelf near the bed where was teddy's place.

'Partly to thank you. You relieved me from many boring duties.'

Oropher eyed Amdir sharply, looking all over him. He still had his arm tightly bandaged and probably it will remain so for quite a time. And most likely he was receiving herbs that eased the pain of healing arm.

'You deserved it.' Oropher said once more and Amdir snorted a bit.

'I did, I won't argue with that!'

'What's your problem?' Oropher finally asked as he couldn't hold himself any further. He didn't see a point why Amdir was even here. 'First you gabbed Arvellon as if you couldn't just meet him and talk to him like a normal elf! And then you attacked me, you could have killed me!'

'I knew you will dodge.'

Oropher shook his head and breath left him in angry hiss. He didn't know himself if he felt more irritation, disbelief or anger.

'Fine, then let's speak about Arvellon, your younger brother. Because you have one, remember?' Oropher snapped, but Amdir took his dagger in hand and seemed to be more interested in examining the weapon.

'Sometimes I remember. Sometimes I don't.' Amdir shrugged his arms. 'I don't know him, so it's hard to treat him like a brother.'

'This could change if only you cared.'

'What's your point?' Amdir asked with exasperation. 'I left before he was even born. I left him as I left my parents. You try to change my mind so I will come back to Menegroth? Lost son came back home, everything ended happily!'

They stared at each other with stuborness and irritation, but Oropher didn't know himself what he wanted from Amdir. Answers? Apoligies? Or maybe forgiveness? And what Amdir wanted from him that he was now here?

'Knowing you it won't ever happen.' Oropher said and Amdir snorted grimacing a bit.

'Don't say it as if we differed that much!' he said. 'A lone thing how you answered my threat says by itself!'

Oropher grimaced and looked away. He couldn't deny it – he didn't contain himself from spilling blood. Amdir won't forget about this, neither will anyone in Menegorth – everyone will remember that his temper was still explosive despite that many said he softened during long years. All that was said to be tempered in him was just asleep, waiting patiently for a right time.

'And do you think that I left because my father was so sharp on my temper?' Amdir snorted and shook his head. 'I live the life I always wanted. Peace and quiet, no expectations and no responsibilities they threw on you since birth. I decide my own fate and I lead myself in this world.'

'Is this truly what you wanted, Amdir?' Oropher asked, this time not with sharp anger, but more with bitterness. 'You know there is always a place for you among us.'

'I know you spoke with your father. About you mother and sister, is that right? And in all honesty I can say that I didn't know about them!' Amdir said then. 'But I knew about our grandmother! What she presented, it was not even a strong will, it was cruelty! And just as for her, the freedom I now have is not enough for me and it won't ever be!'

'We have her spirit, but we are not like her!' Oropher said immediately recalling all the words his father told him. 'If only you would care and close this part of yourself, just as I did!'

'Close this part of myself?' Amdir repeated. 'This is what makes me strong! It makes me free!' then he eyed Oropher. 'And just as you did? Don't sell me this bullshit. You have not softened up, you just learned to manouver between elves that are not like you.'

'You know what, fine. Do as you please!' Oropher said waving away everything that was just said. This whole conversation could be dumped down in the ocean for all he cared and it lead nowhere. Right now he had more important matters at hand than saying to Amdir all the same that he used to before. 'Just as you said to me, I will say to you. Don't expect any kindness from me!' he paused for a moment. 'I don't know how to talk to you anymore! I try to reach a hand to you, after so much time we haven't seen each other and in turn you drag me in your games! And you injured me!'

Amdir stared at him with unbended molten eyes. If Oropher won't find a purpose that lead his cousin, then he won't ever get him back. Was it truly Acharn's spirit and longing for freedom that made Amdir pull away? Or those were memories of what happen to Turel that hauted Amdir to this day? Or it was just how his cousin was - extremly independant and he had to cope with with. Oropher should start to getting used to a thought that Amdir was probably lost to him.

'I didn't want to fight you and I wasn't prepared, I cared more to take Arvellon away! What would you do if I didn't dodge that? Tell me, what would you do?'

If Amdir's strike would have been succesful, Oropher would have bled out. Only immediate, resolute help would have helped him and at that time there was no one around who would have been able to do such a thing. Oropher waited for any words from Amdir, but silence lenghtened terribly. And soon Oropher had enough of it.

'I have more important things to do, I'm done with this.' he said as he got up from the bedding. 'I suggest you to leave.'

'It was a mistake.' he heard then just in a moment when he almost walked out of the room to take one more bath. 'And I am...sorry for it.'

Oropher turned to face his older cousin and stared at him waiting for him to say something more. He didn't know himself what he expected from Amdir, but this apology was a promising start. Amdir's eyes didn't sting so much anymore and Oropher saw in him more of his old self – the older cousin he remembered.

Amdir got up from the bed and made a few steps towards Oropher, but didn't approach him fully.

'You have all the right to not see it, but I care.' he said and it was hard to not notice how Amdir's combative mood dropped. 'I care and I want the best for you.'

'Then you have weird habits to show it.' Oropher said a bit more sharper than he wanted to, but then he added more softly. 'And just because you think something is the best for me it doesn't mean that it truly is.'

'You are probably right.' Amdir said with strange calm that Oropher was not used to. Or he just forgot that Amdir could be like this.

Maybe Amdir was just lost. Maybe he left in anger and in sudden need and then he couldn't come back, maybe because of his pride or maybe it was guilt. Or he was just afraid, though he will never admit it.

Or maybe it was just another wind-up to lure Oropher closer and set him in a trap of a plan that was already sensed in motion. Or there was no such thing and Amdir's words were said in all honesty. Oropher hated that he had to judge and decide whether Amdir was plotting something or not. Just by this he could say how much he and Amdir grew apart and that he didn't trust his older cousin as much as he used to.

But he wished to see Amdir more than once in few centuries. He wanted his older cousin to be around so they could go hunting, fish in a lake of Brethil forest, maybe spar from time to time, recall their memories and past adventures. He wished to see once more this other side of Amdir that seemed to be lost now.

And Oropher's will to remain distant was lost to the great feeling of longing. He approached Amdir who in turn watched him as well, almost with vigilance which all too well told Oropher that Amdir didn't trust him fully as well.

He embraced Amdir who returned the gesture though it was harder for him to do it with only one hand.

'We never had a chance to properly talk after our argument and it was so long ago.' Oropher said, but then added immediately. 'Let's not do it now. I don't want to argue.'

'You are right.' Amdir said and let go all his breath in loud sight.

They were silent for a moment and their embrace turned more into Amdir holding him, but Oropher didn't mind. It was almost painful to realise how much he missed Amdir and knowledge that there was a chance that Amdir didn't care was heartbreaking. After what happened, Arvellon no longer had a wish to have anything to do with his older brother. Celeborn stated clearly that he didn't want to as well, at least not now. Galathil would be more prone for it, maybe they already met with Amdir, Oropher didn't know. It would be good for both of them or so Oropher thought. Maybe it was only him who remember how Amdir used to be so long ago.

'I heard what happened to Faron.' Amdir said then. 'He is not troubling anyone, so I was surprised that someone treated him so. Could it be because he is a Green Elf?'

Oropher knew there were some groups not looking kindly upon Green Elves who settled in Doriath after the war. They believed that those scroungers have more privileges and Doriath wasted necessary resources to build homes for them. And since the Edhil were not all too welcome in Ossiriand, why they should greet the Green Elves in Doriath? Sometimes those voices rised up around, but for short time as those were not looked kindly upon. All the more that Green Elves were more than contributing to the well being of the settlements they lived in by doing their part as everyone else.

'Weird that someone attacked him. And with no reason.'

Oropher frowned a bit and let go of Amdir to look at him with inscrutable expression.

'You did just the same to me.'

'I know. But I am myself.' Amdir said with crafty smile, but then he rised his healthy hand in defense. 'Which was...not fair. Or good.' then he added more quietly. 'But...everyone would expect me to do such a thing...as no one was surprised that you rised a sword to fight me. They know who we are. And what we are made of. But that someone else did such a thing?'

'It was not someone else.' Oropher said choosing to ignore a part of Amdir's statement. 'It was one of the marchwardens and your companion, Eregon.'

'Eregon?' Amdir repeated with clear disbelief and Oropher was sure that his cousin was surprised about what he just heard and he eyed Oropher suspiciously. 'Are you absolutely sure?'

'I don't have to be sure, I saw it with my own eyes!' Oropher said and then patted Amdir's arm leading him out of the bedroom to the spacy living room. At his way out he gathered a robe to put it on. 'What can you tell me about him?'

'Well.' Amdir said and then snorted a bit with incredulity that bordered on mirth. 'I don't know him that well...neither I ever wanted to. He is an exemplary warden.'

While Amdir sat down on the sofa before the fireplace, Oropher went to the cabinet and reached for two goblets and a bottle of mead. He listened intently to what his cousin was saying. Amdir lived with Eregon every day on the Tower, maybe there will be something of importance he can learn.

'I mean' Amdir continued after short consideration. 'He tries to be exemplary. He is not the best, but his willingness to improve and his urge to do his duty is inspiring.'

Amdir snorted while Oropher placed goblets on the table and poured some liquor.

'Maybe it's hard to believe for you, but there are some elves dedicated to their duty.' he said as he took a place near Amdir on the sofa.

'Spare me this.' Amdir said grimacing a bit. 'He is a fake. No one can be so blindly obedient. And he makes impression of being as gentle as a lamb.' he snorted once more. 'Please.'

'So he didn't have such excesses at the Tower.'

'Sure not! He is much liked in there.' Amdir said sipping a bit of his liquor. 'Lousy, good for nothing lout. I made his life harder few times, you know.'

Oropher nodded in thought without even noticing how he was back in getting used to Amdir's insults and language. His cousin was always like this and he always got reprimended for using such language, of course.

'What of his family?'

'Ah, this is another matter!' Amdir said delicately circling alcohol in his goblet. 'You see, every other marchwarden I know who has family, always looks forward for a time he can go to his or her family. It's above all else, their orders, their duty, their well-being. All of them are saying how they can't wait to see their partner and kids, and how they have to miss them in turn.' he sipped his liquor. 'Eregon was saying it too. Yet, he never even once left the Tower to visit them. Not even once, for all those centuries.'

Oropher was not surprised at all about what Amdir was saying. After all, Eregon left and never spoke to his family again. Taranir didn't know why this happened, even his mother knew why. But for some reason Eregon decided to abandon them.

'He is not what he seems.' Amdir said and Oropher nodded at those words.

'No, he is not.' he said a bit bitterly and sipped his own drink. From what Amdir said, Eregon have not admitted at the Tower what he had done to his family, thus it was still Oropher who knew more about him than Amdir. Yet, he was not so fast to share this knowledge with his older cousin.

'When he will be judged?'

'I don't know. Probably, I won't be there to witnes it.' Oropher shook his head. 'Hinnor spoke to him?'

'He did. I tried to find my way to overhear something, but Guards have their area well covered and it's hard to sneak in with unhealthy hand.' then he smiled cunningly. 'But Alagos didn't have such a problem. You should ask him. And give my regards to him. I should be flattered that you ordered him to watch me.'

'You both enjoyed stalking each other like some idiots.' Oropher said and Amdir laughed at this.

'I surely did, at last there was something entertaining to do in Menegroth.' he said. 'And I always liked Alagos, so it was a win-win.'

Oropher half-smiled at this. Amdir met his soldiers only briefly, but definately managed to get to know all of them. Except Saida – Amdir left Menegroth long before she even got to the city for her training. But Amdir liked Alagos's cleverness and they held similar cockiness, but in comparison to Amdir, Alagos had a great sense of duty and despite his confidence he knew boundaries. Amdir never let such a thing to restrain him which lead him and Oropher to many troubles in the past.

Then Amdir's eyes rised above the fieplace and fixed on the sword that was presented there. It was more than representable on its own, even when the flames kindled in the fireplace the sword's brilliance couldn't be dimmed down.

'Mountain Grass.' he muttered as he took a sip of his mead. 'It's not often you have it by your side.'

'There is no need for it.'

'Maybe you should.' Amdir considered aloud and then shook his head. 'On the second thought, maybe don't do it. Some say that the Moutain Grass is the sword of Kings. Who knows what will kick to the head of Elu Thingol once he would hear about it.'

Oropher thought about those words. Mountain Grass was a very well known blade and it was said to be one of Talagan's masterpieces. There was not a single elf who didn't know to whom this sword belonged to, but it was the first time Oropher heard anyone speak about it as Amdir did just a moment before.

'A bit of exagerration, don't you think?' Oropher said. 'Where did you even hear such a thing?'

'Oh, there is a herbalist in the settlement outside of Menegroth. Some say she is...unique.' Amdir said as he sipped his liquor. 'Others believe she is of the same kin as Melian. And sometimes elves hear her saying such interesting things.' he shrugged his arms. 'I never met her, I had no reason to and she keeps to herself. Even the locals don't know her well. But!' he smiled with his known cleverness. 'There are rumors that sometimes Melian leaves Menegroth to meet her.'

'Rumors, hm?' Oropher repeated looking at Amdir at the tip of his eye and he smiled a bit. He still recognised this confident lilt in his cousin's voice which stated directly that those were not rumors.

'You still know me well, cousin!' Amdir said. 'Fine. Melian leaves the city in confidence to meet this herbalist. Just as she did not long ago.'

Oropher eyed Amdir in thought. He could be a great informator, however, his recognisability as a Prince prevented him from being that effective. Still, he was able to gain a lot of information which Oropher experienced not once in the past.

'When exactly?'

'Two days ago. Two and a half.' Amdir precised. 'She left during a night and she was not alone.'

'Elwë left with her?' Oropher asked a bit surprised since it was truly rare for the King to leave the city. Usually he left to hunt and for some minor visitations outside the city, but he always took a great number of guards with himself and Mablung accompanied him on such ride. But since all of it was in confidence then no wonder he didn't muster his usual guards.

'No, not Elwë. But surely he knew of it.' Amdir smiled cunningly. 'It was Egnaspen and his division.'

'Egnaspen?' Oropher repeated surprised. It was something he didn't expect at all. And what would make a Queen to leave Menegroth? All of it started to became suspicious. 'But you have not followed them?'

'I wish I could, but you know Egnaspen's soldiers better than I do. They have eyes of eagles, they noticed me at once when I watched them leave. It would not be wise to stalk them, they are not to be meddled with.' Amdir said, but then he hummed in thought. 'Though I may try another time.'

'Better don't. Hast will mangle you and Auth will trample you even more.' Oropher said though he was not entirely focused as he couldn't figure out this puzzle. There were too many uncertainities to know it.

'It will be worth it.' Amdir said with full confidence. 'But in the meantime I intend to find out more about your late...hmm, teacher, you can say. It's obvious Egnaspen is hiding something. He is not one of us.'

It was brighter than the sun though Oropher never thought about it until not long ago. Egnaspen's presence and looks were like no one else's in Doriath. With his dark skin and curly dark hair, more raven like, he was unmistakable. And his eyes were bright, well contrasting with skin, and color easily reminded of cool waterfalls in the mountains. There was something in his eyes that Oropher couldn't name, but one thing was sure – Egnaspen was not one of the Edhil.

'I think he is one of the Golodhrim.' Oropher said as this would be one of the most possible assumption, but Amdir was not convienced.

'It may be, but I think it would be too simple.' he said. 'I will try to get as much as I can. At least till I won't leave to the Tower with Hinnor and the rest of marchwardens. Which I think will be soon.'

'Not until Eregon will be sentenced. Hinnor must be there to witness it.' Oropher said skipping by part which he wished to say – that Amdir could have stayed here, in Menegroth. However, Oropher knew that his cousin will wave it away and walk his own path.

If he wished to somehow convience Amdir to come back, he had to step down from his confident and ordering stance – it won't bring any effect with Amdir and it will only get his cousin further away from him. If Oropher truly wish to have Amdi back then he should treas step by step.

Then all of sudden he thought about a thing that was putting him in a bit of distress each time he thought of Amdir. As he thought about it now, maybe this was the source of all the problems with his cousin?

'Can I ask you something?'

'Sure thing.' Amdir said as he drunk to the bottom the rest of his liquor and Oropher started to have second thoughts if he should say what he wanted. Maybe it was too soon to ask Amdir if he truly saw what happened to Turel – his cousin will deny, just as he did so many times before to his own parents and to his uncles. He won't admit it to Oropher either, at least not yet.

'Nevermind, it's nothing of importance.' he said and at this moment there was a knock on the door that interupted their conversation. Oropher turned to the door and called to whoever was there. 'Enter!'

He silently hoped it won't be any of his cousins, neither anyone of their family. His conversation and time with Amdir was pleasant enough and he didn't want that ruined by hard situation that would occur if anyone of their family would have appeared.

But for Oropher's luck it was neither of them.

'Sorry to interrupt.' Nelledir said entering the room. He sweeped his eyes through Amdir and then focused on Oropher. 'Egnaspen was asking about you, but he said it's not that important. Taranir stayed home today, Alagos had to leave and Saida left to take care of the matter with the hounds. We could use some help on the fields with Orthon.'

Oropher sighted and got up from the sofa. He lingered over for too long with Amdir and there was work for him to do. He already forgot about the matter with the hounds and wounded horses and that Saida will leave the fields to take care of it. He was also surprised to hear that Alagos left, but if he did then it seemed it was something sudden and of importance. He hoped it would nothing too worriesome. But he was absolutely not surprised that Taranir stayed home - he deserved his time to rest and gather strength.

'I will be there as soon as I can.' he said putting down goblet already going to the bedroom to change into his uniform. 'You with Orthon carry on with your own duties, every other officer will report to me and I will take care of it. Tell Halloth, Amrun and Tinnu to wait for me in the office. And get Bressil to me as well.'

He barely walked into the bedroom when he heard Amdir.

'You kept him in!' Amdir said as his smiled widened as he looked all over Nelledir. 'Well, well, if it's not the youngest son of Laegon! Are you a knight you always dreamed of being? Dedicated, rightous, fighting injustice?'

'I am not.' Nelledir said keeping his voice cold. 'But you are still a foul-mouthed wretch.'

'Careful or the Valar will hear your foul words!' Amdir laughed not paying slightest attention to Nelledir's defiance.

'Amdir!' Oropher growled loud enough for them to hear. He came back to the living room dressed in his uniform and he glanced from Nelledir, who was standing in the door's entrance, to Amdir who leaned his healthy hand on waist and smirked boldly. 'Go, Nelledir. I will join you on the fields.'

Nelledir nodded and left then though all of him told Oropher that he would love to have a few more words with Amdir. Which could end better or worse depending on his humor and how much Amdir will enrage him.

'You hooked on him like a burr. I wonder why you never did that with Orthon.' Oropher said getting his belt from armchair and getting it around his waist.

'I always found funny his belief in the Valar.' Amdir said as he shrugged his arms.

'Leave my soldiers alone, I mean it.' he said. 'When I was forming a division, each time I even slightly got interested in someone and treated them like a potential soldier, you had to harass them.'

'I wasn't harassing anyone.' Amdir said. 'And I'm not done, so I will have my way with them.' he continued immediately before Oropher managed to complain. 'You won't notice. I won't get them away from their duties.'

Oropher sighted and shook his head. How he wished to hammer into his cousin's head some matters. Either hammer them or fight over them, but right now he had time for neither of this.

'Amdir, please. Leave them.' he sighted as he approached his cousin and embraced him once more. 'I have too many things going on. Don't burden me even more.'

'I will see what I can do.' Amdir said as he embraced Oropher back. 'But I have one more person to hunt down. I think you know about whom I'm talking about.'

The way Amdir's voice dropped dark and low was enough for Oropher to precisely know what his cousin meant. He could fake a surprise that Amdir even knew about this, but Oropher was aware that his cousin had his ways to acquire information and he was very clever. But he couldn't let Amdir get into any of this - he didn't let Alagos before and he won't let Amdir as well.

'Don't even try to do anything.' he said stern enough to make Amdir know he was serious about it.

'I don't have a custom to leave matters like this on its own.'

Oropher pulled away from Amdir and looked strightly into his eyes, waking up in himself known wave of fierceness.

'It's not left on its own! And don't ever try to dig through this!' he said sternly once more and cut Amdir short when he wanted to say something. 'It's out of the question!'

Amdir's breath left with a hiss and eyes brightened like molten gold, but he let go and words that left his mouth barely went through clentched throat.

'Fine. I won't do anything...unprovoked.' he said and Oropher patted Amdir's healthly arm calming down. though not too strongly to not cause him pain. 'But I will keep my vigilance.'

'We should meet once more before your leave. And don't sneak into my room next time.'

'Indeed, we should meet. I still have few things to share with you.' Amdir said and Oropher withheld a sight. He shook his head and then left Amdir in his room himself going to the fields where his duties awaited him.

#oropher #celeborn #galathil #amdir #arvellon #sindar #doriath #House of Elmo #silmarillion fanfic #tolkien fanfic

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husheduphistory · 6 years ago

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“You Need Not Trouble”: The Sinister Stove of Spain

The Palazón family were at their wits end. The screams and maniacal laughter at all hours finally crossed the line and they needed to take action. The police were called and the questioning began, "what do you want?" The answer was simple....and it chilled everyone to the bone.

The problems first began for the Palazón family of Zaragoza, Spain in September 1934. Their home was a duplex apartment located on Gascón Gotor Street, and at first nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were shrieks, noises, and laughter that the family assumed was coming from their rowdy neighbors and drifting through their walls and into earshot, especially when the stove was opened. It was a perfectly rational theory, but it was completely shot down on September 27th 1934. On that evening the family maid Pascuala Alcocer was washing dishes in the kitchen when the cackling once again began to trickle into the room from the stove's chimney. But, this seemingly normal night took a sharp turn when the stove began calling her by name with a coarse male voice. The disembodied summoning was followed by a loud sinister laugh that sent Alcocer running to the head of the household in terror.

An investigation into the source of the voice that night proved fruitless with the cackling and shrieking continuing from the stove and chimney with no obvious source. But from that night on, the vocalizations began to get more and more personal. Starting as early as five o'clock in the morning the stove began to address Alcocer and various members of the Palazón family by name. It would reiterate conversations and accurately report any of the family's actions that took place within sight of the stove. It began answering questions and teasing anyone who walked by. These taunts were unnerving, but they would quickly become outright terrifying.

The original building located on Gascón Gotor Street.

The Palazón family did not keep the phenomena unfolding in their kitchen all to themselves and in a desperate attempt to confirm their own sanity they brought neighbors into their home to hear the voice. To the shock of the visitors they were greeted with a hello, and sometimes a name, before hearing the unidentifiable noises and growling emanating from the stove. With so many witnesses adding credibility to the Palazón's stove the theories began to sprout. Clearly the culprit was not a crafty neighbor, it was a duende.

The word "duende" refers to a creature found in Spanish, Portuguese, and Filipino folklore. Belonging to the same realm as sprites, elves, and fairies, these goblin-esque creatures have a reputation of being troublemakers who, depending on the story, lure children into the forests away from home, clip the toes off of unkempt children, and live in the walls of homes with young ones living inside.

An illustration of a duende.

As the spectral harassment and stories of the Palazón family increased, so did the crowds of people wanting to hear the goblin for themselves. With thousands of curious people approaching the building, the London Times writing daily reports about the "Zaragoza Duende", and the sanity of the Palazóns being sorely tested, the police finally decided it was time to "put an end to this circus.”

When the Zaragoza police entered the duplex in mid-November they were probably expecting to quickly debunk the ridiculous claims they had been hearing, but it was proving much more difficult than they anticipated. The stove began to address specific people by name and somehow knew when people entered and exited the room. When someone would turn off the light a devilish voice would scream "Light! Light! I cannot see!" The police began to question the stove directly, and the answers it gave brought them no closer to comfort or a conclusion.

“Do you want money?”

"No."

“Do you want a job?”

"No"

"Then who are you, what is it that you want, man?"

"Nothing. I am not a man."

The Palazón family temporarily left their duplex because of the investigation, but with no answers in sight the police ordered an extreme measure, the building was to be evacuated and the entire block quarantined in order to pin down the culprit. According to the November 24th 1934 issue of the London Times an "architect and some workmen" went into the building to investigate and after a thorough search of the entire premises they found themselves without an answer. While standing in front of the offending stove one workman commented that the opening of the stove's chimney should be measured. The stove responded to the suggestion by saying "You need not trouble, the diameter is just 6 inches." The goblin was exactly right.

An official inspecting the stove.

With no answer to the question resting on thousands of minds the police amped up their investigation and decided that not only would the building remain empty, all communication was cut off and the perimeter was to be guarded at all hours to ensure no one could enter or exit the premises.

Then the next day, as suddenly as it showed up, the mystery voice stopped. The building was again searched, a priest sprinkled holy water on the stove, the guard was called off, and after two days of silence the residents, including the Palazóns, were able to return home feeling safe and glad that the entire ordeal was over. Their nerves were completely shattered the morning after their return when daybreak brought back the harrowing sound from the stove. "Cowards, cowards, cowards, here I am!" it declared before announcing its ultimate plans, "I will kill everyone inside.”

The Palazón family left the building, and this time for good.

It was November 30th 1934 and the governor of Zaragoza had had enough with the Zaragoza Goblin. He had the entire Palazón family brought in to the police for severe questioning and on December 4th a statement was released explaining who had caused such torment...the Palazón family maid Pascuala Alcocer.

A photograph possibly showing Alcocer standing with the stove and chimney.

According to the statement, after being studied it was determined that Alcocer was suffering from a condition called "“unconscious ventriloquism" which caused her to throw her voice without being aware she was doing so. Alcocer herself firmly denied the allegation and many people called attention to the facts that not only was the phantom voice male, but that the young maid was without question nowhere near the duplex when it was being investigated by police, the architect, and even branches of the army. Despite all of the evidence pointing to her innocence, officials would not budge stating that they watched her carry it out and that it was "a psychic phenomenon produced only in certain circumstances.” Firmly stating they had the matter solved, residents were urged to simply go back to their normal lives. The Palazón family and Alcocer parted ways, never returning the duplex in Zaragoza.

The goblin was not heard from again.

The explanation of the evil voice from the stove was never fully agreed upon and the building was torn down in 1977. When a new structure was built on the site its name was emblazoned on the stone wall near the entrance in glittering gold letters. It reads “Edificio Duende,” the “Goblin Building.”

The “Goblin Building” today.

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candywrappcr · 7 years ago

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* pops up from out of nowhere with all my pockets stuffed with food and said food spilling everywhere * listen ……… i’m not cool enough to introduce myself and i’m not gonna bore you to death ( yet ) . to sum it up , i’m NORA but you can also call me a twenty-one year old idiotic nerd . because that is what i am . i should be studying right now , but writing this introduction for my smoll boy of sin is way more fun right now . so get ready for BARTEMIUS CROUCH JR .

BACKSTORY

to clarify, his dad is an ass and deserves what is coming for him in the fourth book of the series. smiley face.

ok so the crouch family is part of the sacred twenty-eight, but other than the most of the families on that list, they don’t really care about blood status or think that purebloods are better than non-purebloods. the crouch family is just simply known for thinking they are better than EVERYONE.

so, his childhood was basically all about his father expecting him to be the best and barty not living up to the standards. as he didn’t display signs of magic at a young age, he was a late bloomer, his father lost interest in him and went back to concentrating on the only thing he loved, his work.

his other had lost his father’s attention years ago and focused on her son completely, home-schooling him and educating him in a warm and nurturing environment. but, as he grew up and his father grew even more distant, never being home, yet expecting perfection to a degree where not even a single hair can be displaced on his mother’s head or where they had to appear as the perfect family to everyone around them, his mother’s mental health crumbled, disappeared and she fell into a deep depression. barty blames his father for his mother’s state.

from that moment he was pretty much raised by his house elf winky until he went off to hogwarts. at first, he didn’t even want to go, he didn’t want to leave his mother alone and he didn’t want to disappoint his father by not being sorted into slytherin.

eventually, he went to hogwarts, was sorted into slytherin and started to roll with the wrong crowd almost immediately. other than that he pretty much had a normal time at hogwarts? just your basic kinda hermoine style nerd doing his best at excelling in every class, preferring the library to any kind of social event and just, getting by.

he hates going back home during the breaks tho, so he will stay in hogwarts for most of christmas, except christmas eve and christmas day where he is ordered back home for the official christmas ceremony & most of summer break where he stays at his aunt’s place with his mother.

PERSONALITY

there is really two sides of one coin when it comes to barty’s personality. on the one hand, there is the gullible, vehement boy, striving to get attention and recognition, someone who is easily manipulated. then, there is the man he is about to become, apathetic and sadistic, too dexterous for his own good, because he will never get a chance to use that mind for anything morally right.

those two parts of his personalities, the boy he had been for the last sixteen years and the man he is about to become are currently fighting for the dominant place in his character, hence he is terribly unstable, something that is only further amplified by the situation at hogwarts.

he can put on a mask to hide his true emotions as easily as he can put on his slytherin tie each morning, which might be one of the reasons he has extreme trust issues. promises are not real and everything is a lie.

there are three people on this planet that he cares about right now. his mother, his house elf winky and himself.

HEADCANONS

he used to be sad about the fact that he couldn’t spend time with his father, but as he grows up, he slowly begins to despise bartemius crouch sr. instead.

for him, the death eaters aren’t about hating on muggleborns and half-bloods. he is completely indifferent when it comes to bloodstatus, he simply dislikes everyone. the reason why he joined the death eaters however is the community, he got accepted and the attention that he craved. he got the father figure he always needed, and the rebellion against his father and everything his father stands for.

barty is a magic nerd. he mastered the hardest potions, is currently working on perfecting non-verbal magic –– last time he tried he turned the sofa in the slytherin common into a living, breathing, human-craving beast instead of turning it blue –– and is one of the best duelists. the only thing he can’t do is perform the patronus spell as he does not have one single happy memory. he also never had a problem using another wand for magic that wasn’t his own, frequently stealing his father’s wand to break the rules and perform a simple spell outside of school. just to annoy his father.

he is currently planning on taking his o.w.l.s in ancient runes, arithmancy, astronomy, care of magical creatures, charms, defense against the dark arts, divination, herbology, history of magic, muggle studies, potions, transfiguartion. as i said, nerd.

he feels strongly for the house elves and their rights, due to being basically raised by one. he does not tolerate anyone treating house elves bad and will get very aggressive.

barty can’t fly. he loves it, but basically ends up like neville in the first movie every time he even comes close to a broom. so, he will just cheer the quidditch teams from the stands.

he has an unyielding 14 inch alder wood wand with a dragon heartstring core. alder wood is a great wood for people who are not dogmatic, but are easily influenced and prefer to be dependent. it’s also great for non-verbal spells. dragon heartstring is however is a very powerful material, for witches and wizards who perform great spells. it also can learn new spells quickly, perfect for this nerd and is easily lured to the dark side.

his amortentia potion scent is a mix of the rose bourbon whiskey his mother keeps hidden in a small compartment in the sitting room, a compartment he knows how to get in to since he was fourteen, the peaches from his aunt’s garden, the scent of old library books and summer rain. this might change, as he has yet to fall in love.

his boggart is himself, worthless and weak. think that time in rick and morty where jerry was imagined as a slug. it’s the reflection of himself that he sees every time he looks in the mirror and the thing he hates the most.

freckles. so MANY FRECKLES. his hair is never messy but his clothes always look like he took hours to steam each crinkle out of his pants before class. also he’s at 1,9m and towering over everyone. generally just looks like a really preppy leech. bc he is long and boyish-thin. haha. get it. also watch druck i beg of you.

CONNECTIONS

ok how about someone who is in the deatheater movement and ends up being basically an older brother and mentor for barty? that would be rad. just a head’s up, barty would probably end up workshipping his mentor as he has daddy issues.

someone preferably from year seven who he has a crush on? like it’s obviously never going to work out and his crush is nothing serious, but there would be something about her that reminds him of his mother –– in a non-creepy way i swear –– that would cause him to crush on her? also he might have mommy issues too. just issues.

#sixthyearsquad. because just because.

roommates? yes please?

someone he meets and ends up being like fuck i care about you? what’s happening? might be romantic or not, but dude needs an emotional anchor.

also he needs friends. he has none right now.

but also enemies? because enemies are fun and so angsty. maybe someone he used to be friends of but now “ can’t ” because they are possibly muggleborn or an order member?

now, if you read through all this above, here is a cute vine of a puppy and you can either like this post and i will message you or you can message me directly after reading this because you want to plot with this trashbag.

#000 / ooc . ⏤⏤ ❨ goodbye mission control ; thanks for trying . ❩#epoch.intro

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katie-dub · 7 years ago

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The Most Wonderful Time of the Year: An Affinity for Elf Culture

A magic in the modern world AU loosely inspired by the movie Elf

AO3

An Affinity for Elf Culture

Emma strode into the bar where she was due to meet her skip, dressed to arrest in a skin tight dress and killer heels. She scanned the room and on seeing no sign of him, slunk onto a bar stool and pulled out her phone.

“Oh wow, you must be missing home.” She looked up at the sound of the smooth, British accent to see a handsome man sat beside her. Hot, was her brain’s immediate reaction, before she reminded herself that this was some sleeze apparently trying out a line on her.

“Excuse me?”

“It must be so hard to be so far from heaven.”

She rolled her eyes with a sigh and gave him her most unimpressed look. “And let me guess, you can take me there?”

The stranger frowned at her and shook his head. “No. I don't know the way, don't you?” he said entirely seriously and Emma shook her head in confusion. This is definitely the weirdest come on I’ve ever heard. “Sorry, are you not an angel? I just assumed with that face you must be one.. So, you’re what? A goddess?”

“Do these lines ever work for you?” she asked, genuinely bewildered and intrigued. What this guy was saying didn't even make sense as a pick up line, but she figured that his pretty face probably bought him a lot of attention. Just a shame that he didn’t have the sharp wit to match. Although perhaps that was for the best as she was here to work.

The hot guy was still looking confused when she spotted her skip walking through the door. She immediately switched to seduction mode, moving to greet him and not sparing the stranger with the terrible chat up lines a second glance.

***

It was a few days later when she was back at that same bar with Mary Margaret, trying desperately to get the bartender’s attention. It was a Friday night in December and the place was crammed full of eager drinkers - it’d be a miracle if she got close to ordering tonight.

She wondered if it was too late to suggest they just give up and go somewhere more low key when she heard a familiar voice in her ear. “Why if it isn’t the goddess! I hoped that I might see you again.”

She looked around and saw the handsome but dim man she’d met earlier in the week. In spite of herself, she smiled at him. Yes, he had bizarre line, but still, it did feel nice to be called a goddess.

“Still not a goddess.”

“No? Surely no mere mortal has such ethereal beauty?” They didn’t sound like the words of a simpleton - perhaps Brits just have a really different approach to chat up lines? “I was sorry that I didn’t get to talk to you longer.”

Emma blushed and couldn’t help but smile a little, he was just staring at her so intently with his beautiful blue eyes. How could she not be charmed by him? “Oh, yeah. I had to catch a skip.” He cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “I’m a bail bondsperson, I catch people who are trying to avoid time in jail.”

She was surprised and gratified to see his face light up at her words. “So you’re a siren.”

“Come again?”

“A siren. You lure men in with your beautiful face and lead them to their doom.”

That got her hackles up at once. How dare he? “Their doom?! That guy stole every last cent his wife and children had - he got what he deserved!”

His smile widened, he was undoubtedly impressed with her. “A just and vengeful siren? That’s even better, love.”

“HEY EMMA!” Emma looked over her shoulder and spotted Mary Margaret yelling out to her, struggling to get close through the mass of people. “Ruby called, change of plan. The others are all at Aesop’s Tables.”

Emma felt a little disappointed that she couldn’t stay to chat with this charming - if eccentric - man, but she wasn’t going to ditch her friends for a man. No matter how handsome he might be. She looked back to him. “Sorry, I have to go, see you.”

“Bye Emma” she heard from behind her as she turned to leave.

***

Emma was a little surprised to find that the strange man kept coming to mind after that encounter. He was clearly at least mildly insane, but at least his lines were somewhat creative. Definitely better than the “I’d better get a library card, because I’m checking you out,” that she heard later than night. Preferable to the lame, “how you doing?” from the guy who still seemed to think Friends references were cutting edge. And she wasn’t even going to comment on the guy who simply asked, “want to sit on my face?” (She opted to throw a drink in it instead.)

When she strolled back to the bar they’d met in a few days later without a skip to catch or a friend to meet, she was more than a little disappointed when she couldn’t see him anywhere. But that was ridiculous, she couldn’t expect him to just loiter in that one bar, hoping to meet her again. He was probably off doing festive things with friends somewhere. She would just get one drink and be on her way.

“Emma, how lovely to see you again!”

Inside she was beaming when she heard that smooth British accent, but she only allowed a small smile to grace her face as she turned to greet him.

She allowed herself the luxury of checking him out quite thoroughly - he was such a fine specimen after all. She saw his pointy ears and noticed an elf decoration behind him with the exact same feature. A mischievous impulse seized her - he was always comparing her to some mythical creature, perhaps she should do the same?

She cocked her head and squinted at him as though trying to figure out how she knows him. “You're that elf who keeps hitting on me, aren't you?”

“Yes!” he shouted eyes wide, then seeming to remember himself, and lowered his voice. “Are you one too? You’re far lovelier than any other elf I’ve met, but -”

Emma’s face fell at his answer. She avoided relationships at the best of times, but here was a grown man, telling her that he was a goddamn elf. If ever there was a great big flashing neon sign to tell her to avoid a situation, this was it.

“I was joking. I don’t know whether you are too, or if you genuinely believe -” she couldn’t bring herself to say it “- that. But I can’t do this.” She knocked back her drink and without another word, stood up and marched out of the bar.

***

It was Christmas Eve and Emma was strolling through the park when she saw it - Santa’s sleigh crash landing in front of her. And as if that wasn’t enough, there was her elf from the bar, helping Santa to repair the damn thing.

She wanted to deny it all, but truthfully? It was kind of nice to think that the hot guy who hit on her hadn’t been a lunatic. And if he was actually an elf and thought she might be some kind of legendarily beautiful creature… well, that was actually really flattering.

Santa had been sent off on his way, Christmas had been saved and they were sharing a glass of rum in the bar where they met.

“So, you really are an elf then -” Emma broke off, suddenly realising that she didn’t know his name.

“Killian. And yes. Well, I’m part elf.” She raised her eyebrows questioningly, wanting him to continue. “My mum was an elf, my dad’s human, and something of a dickhead.”

Emma snorted with laughter and Killian frowned at her. “Sorry, it’s weird to hear an elf swear, I thought you’d say something like ‘son of a nutcracker’ - and that elves were really small.”

Killian scowled. “Will Ferrell has a lot to answer for,” he muttered darkly. “No, we’re normal size, we do swear, we don’t rot our teeth on impossible quantities of sugar. About the only thing that you guys have right is that we work with Santa. Oh and the pointy ears thing.” He gestured vaguely towards his own ears with their pointed tips.

“Fair enough.” Emma considered asking Killian more about his complicated family tree, but decided she didn’t really want to have to share her own at this stage. That could wait til later - much later - they hadn’t even had a proper date yet. She leaned in with a grin. “So, Killian, what are you doing New Year’s eve?” Killian’s answering smile lit up his whole face, making him somehow more beautiful still. This might be completely insane, but Emma found that she had never been more sure that she was making the right choice.

#cs ff #cs fanfics #cs christmas #captain swan #cs au #katie dub writes #the most wonderful time of the year

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book-o-scams · 7 years ago

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What do you think of the Kanker's presence in Jingle Jingle Jangle? How is it different from their other appearances?

OKAY I FINALLY DID IT! Step right up and see analysis of the Kankers’ parts of Jingle Jingle Jangle! Only 3 or 4 weeks late!

First of all, in case I never analyze this special in full, I want to call out that this whole way of connecting the Eds’ A Plot to the Kankers’ B Plot is complete nonsense.... randomly discarded and forgotten flashlight + conveniently placed mirror = reflection of light pointed at the sky = Star of Bethlehem that uses Godlight to deliver sexual harassment to the main characters??? It is a purely visual idea, and what’s worse it seemingly has no meaning.... is it punishment for wasting a battery?? Then what was the point of the special’s other Chekhov’s lightbulb!?

Was that just a spiritual redemption, but not an escape from his punishment?

Is it punishment for breaking his parents’ trust?

Is it just to say the Kankers’ lives are sadder and this universe’s god prioritizes them above the Eds or anyone else?

Or is the Snow itself an entity, like the Static? Both are terms to refer to television fuzz….

Is Evil Tim in control of the holidays, with all the magical Santas and Elves and Monsters that get to appear in these episodes???

The Snow is even the first thing to appear, in detailed close-up for one time, before the rest of the universe fades into existence, ushering Plank (and Jonny) into the digital era before the Eds OR the Kankers get to appear at all, and scenes where the snow is coming down are markedly more abstract and focused on the characters being quiet and internalizing their emotions.

Is supernature itself overwhelming the characters at will and leading them to cruel fates!?

Is the supersnow meant as a warning of the literal and figurative after-effects bound to invade any show switching to digital!?

SOMEBODY STOP ME!

The snow even just fades out when Eddy’s light starts glowing.

I’m sorry to begin with a whole silly rant. It’s just that Christmas specials are normally the one episode of any show that can be counted on to let the main characters have a win. The show was set to end with its stagnant nihilistic 4th season, so it was a miracle to get the holiday specials or digital era at all... So this Kanker ending stung more than usual.

That said, this special has won me over as an adult! The series’ first foray into digital animation looks really gorgeous and it’s such a visually driven special, you can’t look away. The animation is unfortunately a little better than the digital era could make consistent, but it’s close enough to feel like the same show as everything that came before and after it. Definitely some of the most experimental style choices the show ever made. I’m always so glad the backgrounds are still hand-painted throughout Jingle Jingle Jangle.

I’m fascinated by the way this star is clearly a digital effect, but at the same time it avoids being too high quality for EEnE by mostly looking like a dry brush (like when they do those paint-blurs when the characters move fast), and animating the star as white outlines with no color inside when they could easily do a real light effect is an interesting choice. It captures the eery prettiness the star’s role demands without betraying the show’s sketchiness.

I really like the music direction this whole special, but this opening to the Kankers’ Christmas is one of my favorite parts. It is about a minute long and starts 2 and a half minutes into the special.

As we start hearing dialogue from Lee, the camera whips down to the trailer park and the Kankers’ theme music drums in. This is the one time the show really made me aware the Kankers have a theme so now I always keep an ear out for that music cue. I know it fills most of their appearances in Big Picture Show.

Inside, the Kankers sit and squabble as always, playing with a box of Krazy Krackers. Apparently Christmas Crackers are a more popular thing in the UK (the show had a lot of UK influence around this time, with Rachel Connor joining as head writer in the next season), but I think it’s been confirmed to be a Canadian thing too now.

Room analysis! The Kankers seem to have to make do when it comes to decorations… They have lights on the staircase and around the windows, and a cute wreathe with a red light on top of their TV, but their tree is a lone stick that has 7 branches if it’s lucky, it’s plugged into the wall yet the one light on it isn’t working, and most of the ornaments seem to be recyclables, barbed wire, or orbs that have fallen from the tree. Oven mitts have been hung from the wall in place of stockings and rather than garland, they’ve trimmed their living room with chains, fishing lures and… are those shower curtain lines?

This is probably the most the show really gets across how big of an economic difference there is between the cul-de-sac and the trailer park. The kids, even Ed and Eddy (unfortunately we see little of Edd’s family’s Christmas traditions), seem to have very gaudy and extravagant decorations, most of them appear to be expecting family or coworker Christmas parties later in the evening. The Kankers’ trailer is sparse by comparison.

Marie being the least cheery at Christmas is probably the most punk thing about her..

Focusing Kanker scenes on May is pretty typical of this point in the series, but I like how infallibly nice May is in this one. Marie tries to blow the Christmas cracker up in May’s face, and yet May barely reacts to the threat level here as anything out of the ordinary. Then again, this scene likely exaggerates how much these things are like firecrackers.

May calls the cracker a dud, so of course Lee razzes her, “just like you, huh, May?” This moment has a good undertone of Lee trying to readjust Marie’s negativity to more of a light ribbing, to fit the season.

REALLY COOL DIGITAL DRYBRUSH EXPLOSION EFFECTS…

What’s the deal with this eyepatch on Marie though? Is this just a “under the bangs” teaser gag like the one frame three-eyed Lee in BPS? The artists don’t try nearly as hard to hide Marie’s full face as they do Lee’s…. Is it just an unexplained one-episode injury like Jimmy’s?

so glad even the digital X-mas special gets inverted frames, one of the most interesting visual features of the series’ early episodes

Good honest reactions of concern for May from Marie and Lee..

WHAT IS THIS A HALLOWEEN SPECIAL!?

“Look, Lee, May got a makeover~!”

….how desensitized have they become to slapstick!? Sarah and Jimmy react to a similar gag with Eddy casually decapitating Ed next season with utter horror and confusion!

Apparently the most important thing here is that Marie wasn’t left out of getting a crown.

5 fingers on her right hand for one pose…

Note that the Kankers have replaced their wall unit’s knick knacks with Christmas cards from their invisible friends and family!

“Joy”

“HAVE A XMAS”

“From Your Father” (please appreciate this rare acknowledgement of the likelihood of a preferred Kanker dad)

“Ho Ho Ho”

“Happy Kwanza” (also the one acknowledgment of other winter holidays in this Christmas special and I don’t think it’s even spelled correctly… I thought for sure at least JIMMY would celebrate Hanukkah or something…)

“[doodle of a candy cane]”

“DO YOU SEE WHAT I SEE?”

one of this special’s many references to classic holiday staples, in this case the song, ‘Do You Hear What I Hear?’ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Do_You_Hear_What_I_Hear%3F

“Something twinkling in the sky!”

This opening scene to their plot starts the Kankers off as unusually innocent and naive, seemingly motivated only by an attraction to light, like moths. Lee even has to ask “where is it?” to which Marie correctly points out that May already said the star was in the sky.

To be fair, Lee’s hair was blocking her eye, and we finally get to see her eye for the first time since season 1!

I LOVE this little detail of Lee twirling her foot before skipping out of frame.

Marie rises, embarrassed to have been choked and dropped so carelessly.

She tries to save face by telling May to come on.

May’s Christmas cheer will not be defeated!

She teases Marie by giving Marie the same “come on” command.

Iconic!! Doesn’t this shot kinda make you think of the night scenes in Disney’s Aladdin?

10 minutes later, we get another minute of Kanker B-plot. I don’t think any other episode ever gets this close to the super-geometric outline-eradicating Samurai-Jack-esque style Rod Filbrandt uses in concept art for his backgrounds..

Such background porn… I’m really unsettled by the weird abandoned signs of life this God Light takes the Kankers to… It’s like a trail of death leading to the Eds’ bad ending and the Kankers are too desensitized to pick up on that.

Lee gives her sisters a quick glance as they approach.

Lee and May unintentionally shut Marie out and she steps around.

Also, I’ll give them points for the “gold, frankincense and myrrh” = “mold, franks and cents, and fur” rhyme gag, but only because I wasn’t aware of that part of the nativity scene until this special aired. I was 13 when this came out, which means I’d already done like 8 grades of Catholic school, how did they fail to make any impression on me!? But honestly, that’s a weird punchline to try and use as a button on this bit. And as much as I love the art in that montage, it seems like it would’ve worked even better as a mood-setting detail if they found each gift separately between each house Eddy visited.

“What the heck is it?“ Pretty sure her mouth colors are mismatched.

“It’s a sign, stupid.“ Touching.

I love when they all look up in unison.

They look more confused as they walk away.

I’m really interested in how extra moody Marie seems in this montage. I also noticed that their frostbitten walk through the snow seems to be slightly foreshadowing of the walk Eddy goes on in the climax.

This is a really iconic shot and camera direction for me too, and it’s the one appearance of the junkyard at night in the whole show (as a setting, there’s at least one episode that shows it from overhead at night). It’s also one of like 3 uses of the junkyard as a setting in the digital era. And here you can barely even recognize it under the snow. Still looks great, though!

They are SO introspective over this star… what are they contemplating? Should we retroactively assume they’re regretting their situations with the Eds post-Fistful, or accept that this special wasn’t made in chronological order and think of something less specific, like family troubles or… just not thinking anything particular at all???

Lee and May stare dumbfounded at their lost-in-thought sister.

Very cute Maries.

Love that unoutlined background pipe.

This glow effect seems.. broken.

“weiners and pennies!?“

Wait… …Are you kidding me? I just noticed that May and Marie are each wearing one half of the same pair of gloves and the same pair of mittens….

Oooh look at this goregous postcard-ready background of the construction site! The construction site only has one other night scene I can think of that isn’t just an overhead shot, and it’s only one shot of Ed running there to grab a cement mixer during his fight with Nazz in Boo Haw Haw.

I really love how these gradient-silhouettes with blobby purple outlines look. Their progression through the show’s locations reminds me of the EEnE video games (mainly Jawbreakers! for the GBA because that was the only game they had at this time)… I think they also used this silhouette style for the kids on the Scam of the Century DS game cover.

i love EEnE vehiclessssss

I love wondering whose coat this is and why it’s been left here… Also, do the rust and torn seat imply this construction site is officially abandoned? Or is this one of only a few vehicles that got left behind right before Christmas break and is now being ravaged by the elements?

This frame always makes me yearn for a future where Lee is a construction worker. Or demolition!!!

“It’s a coat. Come on, we’re getting close.“ Oh sure fine, makes sense to me.

We then cut one street over to Eddy in Plot A, where it isn’t snowing, reinforcing the idea that the Kanker’s story is not chronologically synced up to Eddy’s story.

Anyway, another 10 minutes later, we get a final Kanker scene!

The Snow is strong enough to smack Eddy with a door (UNINTENTIONAL BRO FORESHADOWING?). Eddy is also not very good at boarding a door, apparently.

On a scale of 1-10, how blasphemous is this shot?

The Snow encroaches upon the Eds

“Could it be!? Three kings who have traveled afar!?“

How serious is that question, Edd.... why would there be three real-ass monarchs in Rolf’s shed in the middle of an American blizzard???

I feel real weird about Edd being so religious in this episode, it’s too soon after season 4 made such a point of Edd not believing in things that cannot be proven…

I like that the special is religious. As agnostic as Catholic school made me, Christmas specials that get sentimental about the Christian traditions get the most nostalgia out of me. But this special and series clearly revels in sin and hopelessness, so I found it kind of jarring how much of this special lets the Bible references be played straight. Making Edd super religious just so he can continue to be fanserviced as an angel felt a little cheap, and I feel like it creates an undertone that Eddy is being punished for not being as religious as the others around him.

But take my complaints there with a grain of salt, it’s impossible to understand X-mas Special Logic, where it’s not quite Christianity, just some sort of TV-safe offshoot with elves and magic and a generally more fantastical mythology.

Hey the silhouettes are back!

I already spoiled this joke...

I do really like this shot… Nice to see Rolf’s animals get a Christmas cameo.

I do entertain the idea that the Kankers really think these gifts will warm the Eds’ hearts and earn their admiration. But we all know this will be a short lived moment.

“This image certainly has the Christmas spirit…“

And now that there’s been a beat of peace, the Kankers reveal their true intention of pressuring the Eds into gifting them some kisses. The way they trap them in the shed and suggest it’ll last a whole year is really one of the creepiest approaches to a Kanker ending in the whole show. Obviously it’s not likely it would really last that long, and imo if it’s just kisses it’s not really new or surprising... but it’s still a pretty damn meanspirited ending for a beautifully-crafted holiday special that very easily could have been scrapped by the show’s season 4 cancellation.

I do love the fur coat being draped over the cow’s face, though.

And it is honestly important to know the Eds can still do well drawn group scream takes in digital.

May and Ed scaring the animals is a nice touch, but I hate how we hear May going “oink” during this walla.

“WAIT”

“I’M AN ANGEL”

“STOP!!!!”

kiiiinda scary

I hate Eddy almost getting away but kinda love this rare separation of his eyes.

At this point my brain dies and I just go “aw the kids are so cute this is the only thing going on look how cute jonny is and kevin is being so nice and rolf is such a killyjoy i love this i love their group what a great xmas special nothing went wrong everyone is singing”

hope you had a good Kanker appreciation month!

*cries*

#not to seem mean though i'm gonna miss these!#ed edd n eddy #kanker sisters #kanker sisters appreciation month #kankers #Jingle Jingle Jangle #special #christmas special #scene analysis

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