#making myself cry over fictional elves again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Four ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG

Word count: 4887

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Thanks for all your interactions with this story! In honor of all the writing I got done for the World Wide Write-a-thon, here’s a bonus chapter :)

Translations: Mellon = friend

Haldir wasn’t kidding. In order to make up for the time spent with Alex, he pushes us hard. That, combined with the unfamiliar gait of Rumil’s horse, leaves me sore and aching by the time we finally stop well after dark.

Rumil helps me to the ground, giving me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

I wave off his concerns, starting my stretching routine. “S’alright. I’ll probably get used to the all-day riding the second we get to Imladris.”

At this, he cracks a smile. “If you want to wash in the river, better go now. I’ll take dinner to Alex.”

I shouldn’t leave Alex alone. But my body aches and is covered in dirt, and a part of me just isn’t ready to face him. I need to take a moment for myself, away from everyone else, to process and think about what all this means. So I skirt around the hill that marks camp and head to the riverbank.

I undress and wade into the river, stopping when the cool water comes to my shoulders. Baranor had supplied me with an extra bar of soap and I use that to cleanse my body and hair of the dirt that attached itself to me during the day. At the top of the hill that overlooks the river, I catch sight of Alex, sitting isolated near the pile of bags that indicate our spot of camp. I purse my lips.

What does his presence mean?

I had been quite convinced that this world is in my head, that I’m concocting some elaborate, possibly lucid, dream and that I would wake up any minute. Or, perhaps, that I had hit my head like Baranor suggested and am now in some sort of coma. But now Alex is here. The memories I have of him clearly show that he’s important to me. I can recall a long line of birthday parties, study breaks, summer camping trips spent staring up at the sky. I remember him comforting me after a bad day, us getting into arguments and then making up, me cheering him on at some sort of competition. But when I try to look at the other faces there, to zero in on any one and pull up memories of them, all I get is a vague blur and a splitting headache. I give up the fruitless effort and turn my thoughts back to Alex.

Alex, who I know I know, is just as real to me as Haldir or Baranor. And each man here acts in a way that I wouldn’t expect — if I created them, wouldn’t they act as I would? I am not stoic like Haldir or silly like Rumil. I don’t posses Baranor’s healing knowledge or Orophin’s attention to detail. And just the sheer vastness of this world…there’s no way I could imagine it all. Even now, we follow a path of which I have no knowledge, so how could I have dreamed up that path?

The ache behind my eyes deepens.

This is too much.

This world feels real. The people feel real. My budding friendships with them feel real—just as real as my friendship with Alex.

I groan, flipping on my back to float.

And I lose the ability to breathe. Because these constellations aren’t the ones I remember. They dance in unfamiliar patterns across the inky black sky, distant and watchful as always, but completely unknown to me.

I love the stars. I love them in a way that causes my heart to ache, that sometimes makes me weep. Night after night I sought them out, charting them by telescopes and my naked eye. I know my constellations like I know the back of my hand—I studied and tracked them relentlessly.

I wouldn’t have replaced my stars.

I release a shaky breath.

A cold dread creeps through my bones, turning the water frigid. Everything suddenly seems more predatory, more dangerous, from the tall grass on the bank to the trees far in the distance….Even the men I travel with.

For one, wild moment, I entertain the idea that they are exactly who they say they are — elves from some unknown realm. Elves, not men. Elves who have pointed ears and wear intricate braids and walk with a grace I could never hope to imitate. Elves who can see far into the distance, hear every comment I make under my breath, ride for hours without tiring, and draw their weapons in less than a second, using reflexes that far outmatch mine.

Elves who inhabit a world that has a foreign set of stars.

The water that brushes against my neck feels suffocating. Gasping, I swim to shore, pulling myself onto the riverbank. It takes me multiple tries to redress, and I realize that my hands are shaking—I am shaking. I collapse into the grass, drawing in heaving breaths. This is too much, this is too much, this is too much!

“Cosima.”

My name comes from over the hill.

It’s Haldir’s voice.

In the beats of silence that follow, all I can hear is my wavering breath.

He calls my name again, closer this time.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, concentrating on the sound of his voice. Solid, assured, stable. Everything I do not feel. My breath begins to even out. My shaking subsides. The sound of grass crunching underfoot reaches my ears, and I stand just in time to meet Haldir’s approach.

He settles his weight on his back foot to balance on the slope of the hill, giving me a stern look. “We lost sight of you.”

I stiffen, pulling back from him. “Were you watching me bathe?”

His eyes blow wide. “N-no! Of course not, I-I would not presume to—” I’ve never seen him look so out of sorts. The tips of his—pointed—ears burn red and his eyes dart wildly around looking anywhere but at me.

The sight is so at odds with what I know about him that I can’t help it.

I burst into laughter.

It’s a little hysterical, and maybe I’m crying a bit, but it feels so good to laugh. Haldir lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sigh of relief, and chuckles hesitantly. It rumbles deep in his chest, sounding almost warm. I wipe the tears from my eyes, shaking my head slowly. As the laughter subsides, I study him, taking in everything that marks him as clearly not human.

He feels real.

I pull my gaze from his braids and instead settle on his ice blue eyes. They stare evenly into mine, perhaps studying me too. A wind blows over the river, reminding me just how much I long for my mat and blanket. The fatigue once again makes itself known—much worse after my panic on the riverbank. I shift on my feet, gesturing up the hill. “I think I’m overly tired.”

Haldir inclines his head in acknowledgment, clasping his hands professionally behind his back. “Understandable, given the day you’ve had. I will escort you back.”

I trudge up the hill, concentrating extra hard to not slip in the mud and ruin the bath I just had, Haldir not far behind. We reach the top of the hill and make our way to where the bags are laid out as well as dinner rations distributed.

Alex sits by himself.

He raises his head, his smile of greeting turning to a scowl the moment Haldir crests the hill behind me. He looks past me, addressing Haldir only. “What were you doing with her down there?”

I feel Haldir bristle and once again hurry to de-escalate. “It’s fine, Alex. He only came to get me because I was gone for a while.”

He shrugs, the action seeming jerky and unnatural. “I could have gone to get you.”

I turn and give Haldir a look of apology. I honestly don’t know why Alex doesn’t like him, they haven’t even had a proper conversation. Haldir watches Alex intently, his own mouth set into a hard line. Then, saying nothing, he stalks forward, leaving us alone.

I groan, bringing a hand to my forehead. “They’re not going to hurt me. They’re not going to hurt you, either.”

Alex shakes his head resolutely. “I don’t trust them.”

“You haven’t given them a chance!”

My words—louder than they’d needed to be—ring through the countryside, destroying the peaceful silence.

I sigh, berating myself for once again treating him too harshly. He’s owed the time he needs to adjust. Tentatively, I take a seat across from him. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to take in. It took me a little while to get comfortable with them, too, you’ll—”

“No, Cosima,” he groans, cutting me off. “There is no ‘getting used to them’, there’s no ‘learning to trust them’. They’re delusional. They’re dangerous. We can’t let our guard down and get caught up in that. We have to focus on finding a way home.”

I rest my chin on my hands, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. Something in his sentence reminds me of the conversation I had with myself in the river. Maybe he’s been thinking along similar lines. “Alex, if you’re talking about getting home, then you believe this place is real.”

He squints, raising an eyebrow. “Of course it’s real. There’s no way we’re both making it up. We’re probably in the plains of Africa or-or maybe somewhere in Europe, I don’t really know. The point is, these guys are lying to us. They’re trying to keep us confused and isolated. We need to stay sharp and look for an opportunity to escape.”

“Escape,” I breathe, definitely not wanting the others to hear our conversation. “Have you seen the land we’re traveling? With no supplies, no horses, no maps—we wouldn’t last two days.” Never mind the fact that just a few days ago, I was considering escape, myself.

“We’ll steal supplies then.” He shrugs, passion alighting his eyes. “It doesn’t matter—we’ll figure it out. In the meantime, learn as much about these guys and the landscape as you can and stop letting them try to convince you that they’re a fictional species. I’ll work on taking supplies. Then, when we have enough, we’ll leave.”

I shake my head slowly. Something about leaving, about separating myself from the group and striking out on our own feels wrong. Every survival instinct I have screams at me to stay put, to not abandon the safety net I found by chance. And a voice in the back of my head reminds me that if I’m seeing different stars…if I am under a different sky…well, then maybe there is no going home. I try to reason with him. “They haven’t tried to hurt us yet. They’ve given us their food, their water, allowed us to ride their horses. They’re helping us!”

He rolls his eyes, clearly about to interrupt.

“Just—go along with it until we reach Imladris,” I beg, holding up my hands to silence him. “Then at least we’ll have seen more of the landscape and will know what we’re dealing with. Maybe there will be supplies in the city that we can take, or even someone with knowledge of how to get back to America.”

He grits his teeth. “You need to stop playing into their lies.”

The two of us stare at each other, equally unwilling to back down.

Rumil appears at the top of the hill, smiling broadly. Either he’s oblivious to our argument or trying to diffuse it. He sets a bedroll at my feet. “For you.”

I look between the mat and Rumil, feeling quite guilty. There are only four bedrolls between the six of us now, and I’ve slept soundly on one for every night of my journey. I don’t deserve that…especially now that I’m thinking of robbing and abandoning them. My stomach churns. “Thanks, but I’m fine on the grass. I don’t want to keep taking your stuff.” I wince. Did that sound too suspicious? Could he know my thoughts?

Rumil only winks and plops onto the ground next to me. “Nonsense. It’s Orophin’s anyway.”

I sputter, the laughter escaping me without any real thought. It just feels so natural to be comfortable with Rumil, the others too. So what if they think they’re elves?

So what if they are elves?

Alex’s foot digs into mine, and my laughter dies. His words return to haunt me. They’re delusional…stop playing into their lies��.

Haldir joins us. He sits across from Rumil, completing the small circle, saying nothing. He takes out a knife and what looks like a small rock and begins to sharpen the blade.

It’s clear Rumil doesn’t care for silence and he quickly tries to strike up a conversation. “Obviously you know each other now, but Cosima, you couldn’t remember Alex before today. Has anything changed? Do you remember something more?”

I feel each of their eyes on me and I search through the vague remnants of my memory. “I…didn’t know I knew Alex, true. But the minute I saw him, the memories came rushing back—not everything, of course, but I got more context into who he is and who we are to each other. But no, nothing more than that.”

Rumil raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “And who is he?”

“Her friend since childhood,” Alex cuts in smoothly, responding before I can.

Images of two children running down a paved road, cutting up paper and gluing it to popsicle sticks, trying to hit each other with foam swords, race through my mind.

“We…lived down the street from each other,” I recall, smiling as the memories take firmer hold. “I used to go to your house after school and your sister would watch us until our parents got home.”

“We went to prom together.” He gives a short laugh, fondness softening his guarded eyes. “Only because we couldn’t find anyone to go with either of us.”

“It was better that way,” I declare, the start of a smile twitching at my lips. “Who else would have ditched halfway through with me to get snacks and watch a movie?”

He shakes his head slowly, fondness giving way to nostalgia. “I had fun that night.”

“Me too.”

Look at all these memories you have together. See how long you’ve trusted him? How long he’s stuck by your side? Maybe you owe it to him to trust him now.

“That was good.” I whip around, startled to see Baranor leaning against a tall tree, clutching his healer’s bag. I had assumed he was on watch with Orophin. He makes his way over to us. “Perhaps the more you talk about it, the more you will remember.”

I shrug, heart rate slowing down after the scare. “Hopefully. Right now, it seems like my mind’s gone completely blank. I only have the memories I described. Anything beyond is just that—out of reach.”

“Be kind to yourself. Any progress is admirable.” He smiles, walking to the middle of our circle and crouching in front of Alex. “I’d like to take a look at your head and address any injuries you acquired in your time traveling alone.”

Alex hesitates, then rolls up the end of his right legging to reveal a dirty red and brown gash.

“Alex,” I gasp, recoiling from the wound. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugs, wincing slightly when Baranor prods at the edge of the cut. “There were more important things to deal with.”

I roll my eyes as a new set of memories—annoying me more than giving me hope—come to mind. “You always tried to be tougher than everyone else.”

He grins, then grimaces slightly when Baranor starts the cleaning process. Despite that, he retains a playfulness in his tone that’s welcome after our arguments. “True. Way tougher than you! That time you fell out of the tree—gosh, we could hear you shouting for miles.”

That memory flashes forward, too. “I was seven and it hurt!” I defend, crossing my arms indignantly.

Alex quirks a teasing eyebrow. “And did you ever climb a tree again?”

I sniff, turning my head to the sky to avoid seeing the blood weeping from the wound. “I can’t remember.”

“Well, you didn’t,” he snarks.

“Must be why you’re afraid of heights,” Rumil muses, reclining on the grass to watch the stars. Stars that I’m not making up. “You’re going to hate Caras Galadon.”

I turn my head in his direction. “Why?”

Mischief shines brightly in Rumil’s eyes. “The city is built into the trees.”

I gulp, wondering how on Earth I’m going to visit a city that’s built so high up, but then Alex catches my eye, and I understand.

We will not be going to Lothlórien.

{***}

The morning greets us with a cloudy sunrise and a harsh breeze.

Haldir eyes the sky warily. “Secure your supplies as best as you can We are in for a storm today.”

I grimace. It’s not that thunderstorms scare me, but from what I’ve learned about Haldir in our few short days together, I have a feeling he’ll require that we keep riding, no matter the weather conditions. Today probably isn’t going to be fun. A particularly gusty wind blows my cloak from my shoulders and I huff, yanking it back into place.

“Here.” I look up to see Haldir offering me a green and silver clip in the shape of a leaf. I eye it in confusion. “It will keep your cloak secured,” he explains, pointing to his own that clasps at the base of his neck.

“Oh,” I take it from him, slightly stunned at the kind gesture. “Thank you.”

He nods once then pivots on his heel and marches back to his horse a few yards ahead. I turn the clip in my hands, admiring its craftsmanship.

“That will come in handy today,” Rumil notes, bringing his horse up the hill to meet me.

I smile in greeting, securing the edges of my cloak with the clip. “Hey, I was thinking. Would you show me how to tack up the horse? That way I can help with that while you do some of your other tasks.”

He nods, agreeing to my proposal, and launches into a surprisingly in-depth description of how to properly care for and prepare a horse for a day of hard riding. I take in as much as I can but, knowing me, I’ll need some repetition and practice before it truly sticks. When Haldir gives the order to leave, Rumil gives me a leg up. But, much to my confusion, he settles himself behind me on the horse, rather than in front.

“What—“

He reaches around me to take the reins and place them in my hands, which have already clenched into fists. “You are not the only one who has good ideas. Today, I teach you how to ride. Do try your best and please don’t steer us into the river.”

I groan at the truth behind his joke but take the reins in my hands, knowing that its a good idea for me to learn. Riding skill will help when Alex and I are on our own.

Haldir doesn’t turn from his watch of the horizon, but he raises his voice loud enough for us to hear. “Do not slow us down, Cosima.” And, though his voice holds the same seriousness it always does, I swear I can hear the smallest hint of amusement.

{***}

By late morning, it starts to rain. The droplets are cold and big, taking away any warmth spring has to offer. Not long after, it begins to pour and the path turns to mud. Rumil switches places with me then, wanting a more experienced rider directing the horse through the worsening conditions. The rain soaks through my cloak, my tunic, my leggings. I shiver. Looking over, I see that Alex is equally uncomfortable and sits rigidly on the back of Baranor’s horse, using one arm to grip his cloak tighter around him. The others seem inconvenienced, but otherwise unaffected. They do not shiver, nor obsessively wipe the rain from their eyes. They certainly don’t react to cold rain like humans.

About an hour later, the storm really starts, the rain having apparently only been an introduction. Flashes and booms fill the air, loud enough for me to feel the vibrations in my chest. The wind howls and blows fiercely, causing the horses to bend against it to keep their pace. Water falls from the sky in sheets, completely obscuring my line of vision and soaking us all to the bone. With a note of panic, I realize that the river is steadily creeping up the bank, mingling with the mud that has become our path.

I shout over the rain. “Rumil!” Tugging on his arm, I point to the rising water, and he uses his knees to spur the horse forward. We pull up beside Haldir, who greets us with a questioning gaze.

“The path is in danger of flooding,” Rumil informs him, gesturing his head to the water mere inches from the horses’ hooves. A crease appears in Haldir’s brow and he glances around, working to form a plan.

To my surprise, he addresses me rather than Rumil. “Can you and Alexander continue in this weather? Is your health in danger if we do not seek shelter?”

Oh, I want to stop so badly. I want to find shelter, to let my clothes dry, to have a break from being pelted by icy droplets of rain. I want a snack and a blanket and perhaps a warm fire, if that’s not too much to ask.

But Haldir is appealing to my honesty, trusting me to give him an accurate answer. He is showing me the same respect he gives to his brothers, to Baranor, and I cannot take advantage of that trust. So, with a sigh, I shake my head. “No, we’ll be fine. We can keep going.”

Haldir nods once, a tendency of his, and raises his voice to be heard by all over the rain. “Leave the path and go uphill. We ride over the plains.”

I shudder. The planes are exposed. We will lose what little cover from the rain that the trees provide. But I push aside my dread and steel myself for the rest of journey. I can do this.

Hopefully, the rain will stop by nightfall.

{***}

Mercifully, it does. An hour before we stop for the night, the rain dies down, taking the wind and lighting with it.

Rumil has to practically peel me off the horse. He looks me over, eyes widening in alarm, and wraps me in his arms. “Mellon, you are shaking.” I lean into his warmth, though his clothes are as soaked as mine are.

Haldir dismounts and stomps over, giving me a withering glare. He speaks sharply, a bite to his words. “You said you would be fine.”

“And I meant it,” I snap back, annoyed from discomfort and the venom in his voice. “I just need to dry off and warm up, is all.”

He holds his glare steady, probably assessing the honesty in my statement. Or just trying to intimidate me. Finally, he nods, still angry, but resigned. “Baranor is starting a fire. You and Alexander shed your cloaks and sleep as close to it as you can.”

“Don’t you need me too-”

He cuts me off. “We will take care of the preparations for the night. You rest.”

When I make a noise of agreement to his plan, Haldir walks away, taking Rumil’s horse with him. With a final, worried smile, Rumil pushes me in the direction of the small fire, walking the opposite way to follow his brother.

I practically collapse on my bedroll next to the fire.

Across the flames, Alex sets me with an indecipherable look. “That was a long day.”

I huff in agreement, unable to do much more now that my body realizes how drained it is.

A pause. Then, “Do you think we’ll reach Imladris soon?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting desperately to sink into sleep. Instead, I force myself to do some mental math. “Based on the timeline Orophin gave me, we’re probably about eight days away. Though, I don’t know how much the storm set us back. Why?”

He flops on his mat, pulling a probably damp blanket up to his chin. “Just trying to figure out how much more of this awful traveling we have ahead of us.”

I want to roll my eyes, but, before I can, sleep takes me.

{***}

When I open my eyes, it’s still dark out.

The fire has mostly died, though it retains a soft orange glow that gives me enough light to see the faces of my soundly sleeping companions. Alex has not moved from his spot across the fire, but to my right and left are Rumil and Baranor, the four of us forming a circle around the weakening flames. Haldir and Orophin must be standing watch.

I sit up slowly, trying to avoid making noise that could wake my friends. I press my hand against my cloak that is laid next to the fire—still a bit damp. It will need until morning. Twisting slightly to stretch my aching body, I notice the small bundle next to my mat, and curiously pull back the cloth. Inside the makeshift pouch sits a serving of lembas bread and a handful of red berries. I smile, pulling the dinner into my lap.

While I eat, I let my eyes scan the rolling hills of the plains. I’ve noticed that Haldir relaxes camp when we’re surrounded by trees, but in the plains, he sets a double watch. Looking at the landscape, I suppose I understand. The dips and peaks provide good cover—not just for us, but for anyone wishing to do us harm. There are plenty of hills around us of equal height, meaning the advantage of having the high ground is pretty much nonexistant. And, tonight especially, the landscape is encapsulated in a thick fog, obscuring much from my eyesight. But elves have much better vision, I reassure myself. Haldir and Orophin will be able to see just fine.

I hold my breath.

They are not elves. They are men, just like any other.

It seems I have to remind myself of that more lately. It seems too easy, given the differences between us, to accept their story. But as Alex says, they have to be playing some sort of trick on us. But why? Out of malevolence?

Immediately, I recoil from that thought. My companions seem much too kind, much too genuine to be liars. Even Haldir, who defaults to being standoffish and cold, has never made me feel like I’m in danger. In fact, he actively keeps us all from it. Even now, I’m sure he’d much rather be asleep, warming by the fire, but he and his brother brave the elements, keeping themselves awake and uncomfortable to ensure our safety.

How can people like that be liars?

How can they be bad?

Boots squelch against the mud and I look over my shoulder. Haldir walks up the hill, coming back from watch. Upon noticing me staring at him, he raises an eyebrow and comes to crouch between my mat and what’s left of the fire. He holds up his hands, warming them. “Can’t sleep?”

I shrug, fiddling with the edge of the cloth that holds my dinner. “Don’t know why, I’m tired enough. How was watch?”

He smiles softly as he glances around, still seeming to subconsciously take note of his surroundings. “Foggy, but quiet. We probably don’t need two, but I feel better that way, given all the hills.”

I offer him the remainder of my bread and berries, which he accepts with a nod of thanks. “Are we in danger?”

He pauses, chewing a berry. He doesn’t look at me and seems to take the time to choose his words very carefully. “The risks are lessened here.”

“Which means the worst is ahead of us,” I guess.

His eyes leave the horizon and turn to bore into mine. “The four of us are well-skilled in battle and have made this journey a hundred times before.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He only raises his own eyebrow to match mine, popping another berry into his mouth. He stands, brushes his hands off and returns the bundle to me. “I must wake Rumil and Baranor so Orophin can come back. You should try to sleep.”

I nod, my full belly and the warmth from the fire lulling me back into tiredness. I lay down on the mat and tuck my head into the crook of my arm just in time to see Haldir rouse his youngest brother and take his spot on the mat. Rumil gives me a sleepy smile before waking Baranor and the two head off together, presumably to relieve Orophin and take over watch.

Haldir settles on his mat and notices my gaze over the hill. “Goodnight,” he says pointedly, then rolls onto his back.

“Goodnight,” I mumble, falling back into sleep.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day :) Let me know if you would like a tag! And if you’re having trouble being tagged, try subscribing on Ao3! That will notify you automatically when I post there.

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @fangirl-nonsense @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @sheriffgerard @boywivlove

**Strikethrough means Tumblr won’t let me tag you**

48 notes · View notes

elderbloodlore · 4 years ago

Text

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

WHY ARE YOU WRITING THIS?

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

THE LOOKS

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

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

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

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

THE DEMEANOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

CINTRA, RACISM AND MURDERING HER OWN PEOPLE

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

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

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

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

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

RELATIONSHIP WITH GERALT

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

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

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

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

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

FALL OF CINTRA AND CALANTHE’S DEATH

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

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

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

AFTER CALANTHE’S DEATH

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

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

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

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

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

IN CONCLUSION

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

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

166 notes · View notes

hazzabeeforlou · 5 years ago

Text

11/11/11

Oh my gosh so my lovely friends @halosboat @helloamhere and @haztobegood all tagged me in this so I’m going to answer a few from each of them I hope that’s okay!!

1. Do you prefer to write in past or present tense?

I mostly use past tense. Present squeaks me out a bit, not sure why, perhaps my anxiety can’t deal with things happening in the moment! I have an irrational fear of the word ‘was,’ though, which is eliminated in present by ‘is’ so, one would think I’d like present more but I *don’t*

2. Is there any story you want to write but feel like you won’t manage?

My story The Garden is going to be... hard. It’s a soulmate fic set in three time periods, a Biblical AU following the reincarnation of lovers David+Johnathan but in the middle ages, Jesus+Judas in the 1960s, and Adam+Eve in the present day, all obviously portrayed by Harry and Louis. It stems from the evangelical idea that Adam, David, and Jesus were the three ‘Christs,’ or rather that Adam and David were imperfect Saviors. Anyways. I want it to explore divinity and fate and religion and politics and loss and violence and love, and the blurring between good and evil and if there even is a distinction, and it’s so clear in my mind that I can almost taste it, but because of that I’m very daunted by the prospect. It would also be very LONG. And idk who would read a biblical gay love story AU so... I’ve even considered just doing a novel, not a fan fic *shrugs*

3. Which one of your fics do you think deserves more love?

OH BOY. Well I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. My RUDOLPH THE RED NOSED REINDEER AU. Like. Harry is a shapeshifting reindeer. He pulls Santa’s sleigh. He love Christmas more than anything in this whole damn world. Louis is one of Santa’s elves and Harry’s best friend and he wants nothing more than to run away and explore the world. There’s all the mutual idiotic oblivious pining. There’s Christmas shit. SO much Christmas shit. There’s smut. There’s magic. Peppermint dildos. Need I say more?

4. Are the fictional characters you like to read/write similar to the people you like in real life?

I unfortunately read about the people in my real life quite enough in the news *trump voters cough cough* so no, I try to fill my fictional life with witches and warlocks and fairies and intellectuals and scientists and the occasional damsel wandering the moors. As for the characters I write, I have noticed that I tend to make them all very emotionally prone, which I think is more a reflection of myself than the people I’m around. I honestly base most of my characters, or at least their inner issues, on myself, not in an egotistical way, but in an ‘I know myself better than anyone else in my life’ way. Now. Do I like myself? Haha. Um. Ya there’s a reason I solve my self-based character’s problems in fics, I usually need to learn those lessons in my real life.

5. What is your biggest fear about your writing?

My biggest fear has always been failure. As a musician, I’m constantly fearing my art. It’s my profession, and it has to be perfect, and it’s a constant strain. So when it comes to writing, I just don’t let myself care. That’s not to say I don’t edit obsessively and let my perfectionist side play, but because writing is for fun, I don’t fear failing at it. So what if no one reads a story I wrote? I wrote it for me. I wanted to read that story, so I did, and if people hate it, so what. If writing ever became my profession I would likely attach my self worth to it like I do with music, and that’s part of the reason I shy away from that path... I want writing to always be my safe place. Now mechanically, I admit freely that I am the world’s WORST speller. Above that, I also am slightly dyslexic when it comes to right/left, music staff lines, and some words, so I’ll often use the wrong word that sounds the same, you know. Believe it or not my vocab score on the GRE was fucking PERFECT. I just can’t remember how to spell anything, I will legit SPEAK the word I want into Siri and hope she can save my ass. The spelling rules of English are my worse enemy.

6. What is the least “you” story that you like, what was something you really thought you wouldn’t like but ended up loving?

This is so hard because I’m super picky and usually don’t have the patience to wait out things that initially fail to grab my interest. Perhaps... dare I say, the Great British Baking show? I eat none of the things they make. I usually don’t like reality tv or competition shows, they’re too anxiety inducing. But I LOVE this show. I will binge watch it while curled up in bed drinking tea. I now know what a proving drawer is.

7. How do you think about places, locations, settings for your fics?

Usually my plots come ready-made with places. The two are pretty inseparable. I knew PITS would happen in a place like my hometown, that was integral to the story. I knew Until You Remember would be a coastal British village like I’d seen on BBC shows. I knew Flawless would be in NYC, and same with Reindeer Games (apart from the North Pole of course). For Kiss the Girl I did debate between Miami and St. Pete, but having been to both I just... Miami is so wild. I needed a slow, tired place that felt old and forgotten. I guess the real answer to this question is that I set fics mostly in places where I’ve spent time in real life!

8. Give me an example of a scene or plot point in a fic of yours that changed a lot from what you thought it would be

I struggled a lot with the end of Flawless. I’d written this fic and posed all these problems and questions about the nature of love and passion and art and they were all questions I’d been dealing with in my real life and hence I just didn’t have the answers. So I sat on the fic for a while and spent lots of time just thinking, thinking while I put makeup on in the morning, during rehearsal, as I drove places, etc. I remember when the answer “art never needs to be flawless to merit love/people don’t need to be flawless to merit love” hit me, I was sitting on the bathroom counter flossing my teeth or something, and I just jumped up and ran to my notebook. Because that’s a super obvious answer, isn’t it? But I hadn’t been able to find it amidst all the clutter of my questions.

9. Do you consider tags necessary for fics or are they just spoiling the content?

100% necessary. I was super conscious of this for PITS, as the last thing I ever wanted to do was trigger people trying to avoid trauma. Also, as someone who will actively stop movies or shows if I don’t know the ending is happy, I always am clear about that as well. Spoilers and proper tagging aren’t mutually exclusive, in my opinion.

10. Is there any author that inspired you to start writing?

Well... I’ve been writing stories since I was very little, so I’m sure many of my influences have been subconscious ones. However! When Christopher Paolini wrote Eragon, I remember thinking ‘hey if one homeschooled weirdo can do it so can I!”

11. Was there a fic that made you cry?

Pretty sure everything soft and magical that Phoenix @alienfuckeronmain has ever written has made me cry. Including her recent girl direction fic that I had the absolute honor of cheerleading for. I think about that underpass scene all the goddamn time. Um... Nina @pattern-pals wrote this STUNNING girl direction serpent fic that left me a fucking mess, like it was HOLY and I wanted to run to the nearest cathedral and jump in a vat of holy water and scream into stained glass windows, that type of holy. I *sobbed* myself to sleep reading the end of the world fic (I forget the name, I’ll never read it again, it hurt too badly) you know the classic one. God. Ya. Um, but in the GOOD tears category I absolutely bawled at @crinkle-eyed-boo ‘s While You Were Sleeping AU, and I am usually not a rom com sappy type of person but it hit ALL the right notes and I loved it so fucking much.

HOLY SHIT THIS IS SO LONG I’M SORRY! Okay 11 Questions.

1. If you could crawl inside one of your stories and live, which one would it be and why?

2. Is there any imagery you return to again and again?

3. Do descriptions of characters’ clothing factor into your fics a lot, why or why not?

4. Which of your fics would you want adapted to the big screen and why?

5. Are there any place you won’t go with your writing that other’s might think is an usual trigger, i.e. how Indiana Jones hates snakes?

6. Which composer would score your favorite fic and why?

7. Have you ever fallen in love with one of your characters or written a character as a wish-fulfillment perfect partner for yourself?

8. How do you write accents/dialect differences in your fics?

9. Do you ever find yourself re-using words/sentences for kissing or smut? How do you avoid repetition?

10. Which fic author has most touched your soul?

11. If you had to pick only one fic to read over and over again for the rest of your life, what would it be?

@always-aqua @metal-eye @newleafover @lesbianiconharrystyles @pattern-pals @alienfuckeronmain I’m not sure if you’ve all been tagged yet but I think pretty much EVERYONE else has been, however if you haven’t been consider this your tag and please @ me!!!

#11/11/11 #about me #wow this got long so sorry

12 notes · View notes

noblessewerewolfloner-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Loner~A Noblesse fan-fiction.

Chapter 5

“If I remember correctly, Ice Elves went extinct a long time ago. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.....”

“Yeah, well, a few of us Ice Elves were forced to flee because of the ever growing wickedness in our kingdom. Luckily and unfortunately for us, heat drastically changed the environment, killing thousands, but that meant the few of us were the only ones left, and my two brothers were forced into marrying my two best friends so they could have children. They went off on their own to start over, deciding to start their own separate towns. Me, however, I have been captured for experiments, only to learn to adapt harsh pain,” Lyre took out her bow and arrows. “Stay out of the way Matthew, I have a bone to pick with Jacqueline.

“Be my guest, I have my own matter to settle with Markus. Just don’t die, okay Lyre?”

“Pffft. I should be saying that to you.”

And so it began. Matthew vs Markus, Lyre vs Jacqueline. Karius continued fighting John, while the other three nobles faced Jaden. Muzuka kept a watch on the cave opening, listening and watching for anyone approaching.

It was a difficult battle for both sides, since everyone was skilled differently. Lyre was good at long distance shots, so Jacqueline kept on trying to close that space. Even with the cave walls, Lyre managed getting as far away as needed to defend herself, which was quite a hassle for Jacqueline.

Jaden’s main problem was not having three arms-he could fight two enemies easily, but since he only had two weapons and two arms, fighting three enemies was tricky. However, it seemed to Jaden that their weak spot was Regis, so he tried to focus a little more on him, but it seemed to him that that decision only made it so Rael and Seira could attack from his back, quickly making Regis the bait. Jaden grunted, quickly thinking up new ways to end this quickly.

John was way stronger than Karius, but like Lyre, Karius was better at attacking his opponent from far away. He took what Lyre did in accounting, copying her movements, and was slowly overpowering John. John tried thinking of new tricks he could use.

Markus was slightly a bit more agile, but Matthew succeeded in strength, as well as speed and endurance. Even though Markus had good weapons, Matthew’s whip was better than all of them combined, and Markus knew that dragging this fight out would only work against him. All 4 enemies were in trouble.

Suddenly, the ground becan rumbling, trembling, and groaning. Matthew’s eyes went wide. “Lyre! Over here!!” Picking up Walter, who he put down a moment ago, he threw her at Lyre. Lyre caught her, but fell over, bumping into Karius, who bumped into Regis, who bumped into Seira, who bumped into Rael, who bumped into Muzuka. The earthquake made them roll down the hill, away from the cave.

Then, it exploded.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Matthew was floating, in the middle of darkness.

He couldn’t remember anything. He didn’t know why he was here. He just, was still. One with the universe. Everything, still. Everything was peaceful, perfect the way it was.

Suddenly, light beamed brightly on Matthew, and he winced. An angel came, singing, and grabbed his hand. The angel pulled him towards a light, and with his other hand, and reached out to grab it. And.....

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

“Matthew!!! Matthew is awake!!!”

Matthew heard Lyre’s voice, recognizing it almost instantly. His vision was blurry, and it took a moment for his eyes to readjust to the light. Someone was hugging him, a tiny shape crying into Matthew’s shirt, his body in terrible condition. Is that.....Walter.....?

Suddenly, a huge crowd of people entered the room: Karius, Rael, Regis, Seira, M-21, Tao, Takio, Frankenstein, Rai, and Muzuka.

“Are you feeling all right?” Frankenstein asked Matthew. Matthew blinked a few times. “Apart from the fact that a bomb exploded underneath my feet, yeah, I guess I’m fine.”

Everyone sighed in unison in relief, and Matthew chuckled. “Relax. I’ve been through worse. I’ll survive, that’s all that matters.” He tried to sit up, but at once, everyone stopped him. “You don’t want to get hurt more-!” “-You need to rest-!” “-Stay laying down, okay-!”

“Alright, alright!! I won’t sit up!! Calm yourselves!!” Matthew chuckled once more. “You guys act like it’s the end of me.”

“Because once again, you steal the role of the hero and almost die, making everyone fuss over you, while saying that you’ll be alright, but without us, you wouldn’t be alright, but you continued being selfish by putting yourself out there to be killed while all we get to do is watch? That’s selfish Matthew. Let someone worry about you once in a while, please,” Lyre said, surprising Matthew. “You just said the same thing I said to you 864 years ago, didn’t you?” “Yes I did, because they’re word of gold.”

Matthew laughed. “Hey Muzuka. Meet Lyre. You two are perfect for each other. So instead of keeping me in line, she can keep you in line and you don’t almost die either.”

“Don’t set me up with someone I just met recently!!!” Lyre snapped, and Matthew chuckled. “And you can deal with her temper outbursts as well.” “Hey!!!!”

“You guys seem close,” Seira commented. “Well, we are childhood friends. Matthew helped me escape the Ice Kingdom, and when I made myself go missing, he took care of Walter. Well, at least, until Markus faked Walter’s death and things began spiraling downward from there.”

“Markus is a real jerk. Hey, did he and the others die?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I hope so. Because I can drag him down here from hell and kill him over and over again.”

“Sheesh, he’s that bad?” M-21 said. “’Cause that’s pretty morbid.”

“Ohhhhh-ho-ho, he’s way worse. Maduke’s wickedness and sin is only a fraction, a portion, a sliver of Markus’s. I never thought he would meet John. Or Jacqueline and Jaden, for that matter,” Matthew arched his back, stretching. “Them teaming up is really bad luck for me. They also seem to have a bone to pick with me, just like I have one with them. Since I’m the only one that survived their torture out of hundreds of victims. Oh, and apparently my mom stole from them and disappeared before they could get their revenge, so that’s what started it all.”

“Your mom?” Muzuka asked, surprised.

“Yes. My mom. Her. A demon disguised as an angel, apparently. She’s probably worse than Markus. But, my mom never did anything to me other than ruin my life with the debt she put on my shoulders, so I’m not going to hate her that much. Markus, on the other hand, threatened my life as well as my friend’s life, so I still have a bone to pick with him.”

Everyone looked at each other. “Well, we’re going to let you rest, alright? Get well soon, Matthew,” Frankenstein said, and everyone left the room. Except for Walter, who got on this little makeshift bed he made out of blankets. “Good night, uncle Matt!!” He smiled, before falling asleep. Matthew smiled himself, and soon, fell asleep himself.

#Nobless #Fanfiction #Matthew

1 note · View note

foundcarcosa · 7 years ago

Text

ccvii.

1: How tall or short do you wish you were? >> Height isn’t important to me. I’m slightly taller than Can Calah, shorter than Eden, and substantially smaller in general than Vinternoll, and that’s the way I like it. (I am usually around the same height in headspace as I am in meatspace) 2: What’s your dream pet (real or not)? >> Gaudior the winged unicorn (A Swiftly Tilting Planet)

3: Do you have a favorite clothing style? >> I have quite a few favourite clothing styles. I’ll always be some sort of goth at heart, I will say.

4: What was your favorite video game growing up? >> My favourite computer games were The Logical Journey of the Zoombinis and Alien Tales. I had like a weird kid-crush on Sal of deCentury, the alien game show host... (and who at all is surprised)

5: What three things/people do you think of most each day: >> Oh, I don’t know.

6: If you had a warning label, what would yours say? >> Warning: Black Carcosa is a caustic irradiated substance. Prolonged contact with Black Carcosa may cause severe mental deterioration, burns and lesions (or legions, even), and enhanced delusions of reference. Please consult your psychologist before engaging Black Carcosa. Keep away from children, pets, your electronics, and anything else whose innocence and integrity you hold dear.

7: What is your Greek personality type (Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Choleric, or Melancholic)? >> Primarily Phlegmatic, it seems.

8: Are you ticklish? >> Not usually.

9: Are you allergic to anything? >> No.

10: What’s your sexuality? >> There are a lot of things I’d gladly fuck, but not a whole lot of humans.

11: Do you prefer tea, coffee, or cocoa? >> I greatly prefer tea.

12: Are you a cat or dog person? >> My preference leans towards dogs.

13: Would you rather be a vampire, elf, or merperson? >> I identify most with elves, out of the three.

14: Do you have a favorite Youtuber? >> No.

15: How tall are you? >> 5′4″.

16: If you had to change your name, what would you change it to? >> I’d like to not wish to change my name anymore, actually.

17: How much do you weigh? >> Somewhere between 130 and 135 lbs.

18: Do you believe in ghosts/spirits? >> I am open to the experience.

19: Do you like space or the ocean more? >> I am more interested in what lies beyond this planet than what lies on it, although this planet is also extremely fascinating in all its complexity.

20: Are you religious? >> Intensely.

21: Pet peeves? >> Passivity.

22: Would you rather be nocturnal or diurnal (opposite of nocturnal)? >> I... am fine being mostly nocturnal.

23: Favorite constellation? >> Orion. Always Orion.

24: Favorite star? >> I haven’t chosen one.

25: Do you like ball-jointed dolls? >> Sure, especially custom ones.

26: Any phobias or fears? >> Meh.

27: Do you think global warming is real? >> I understand climate change as a process that occurs, yes.

28: Do you believe in reincarnation? >> I am open to the experience.

29: Favorite movie? >> The Fountain / Interstellar.

30: Do you get scared easily? >> No.

31: How many pets have you own in your lifetime? >> I used to take care of a couple of cats, for a short time. Fyodor and Hela. But almost all of the pets I’ve lived with have technically been under the custodianship of others.

32: What is a color that calms you? >> Soft, slightly desaturated bluish-grey.

33: Where would you like to travel and/or live? >> I would prefer to live in New Orleans and travel anywhere.

34: Where were you born? >> Elizabeth, New Jersey.

35: What is your eye color? >> Dark brown.

36: Introvert or extrovert? >> Mostly introvert. Entirely disinterested in “introvert culture”.

37: Do you believe in horoscopes and zodiacs? >> I am open to the experience (and especially attracted to astrology, as I’m sure my reblogs suggest).

38: Hugs or kisses? >> Meh.

39: Who is someone you would like to see/visit right now? >> I’m fine not doing that.

40: Who is someone you love deeply? >> Can Calah.

41: Any piercings you want? >> Sure, if the opportunity presented itself. My focus is mostly on tattoos.

42: Do you like tattoos and piercings? >> Quite.

43: Do you smoke or have you ever done so? >> I smoke occasionally.

44: Talk about your crush, if you have one! >> My crushes at this point are pretty much celebrities and fictional characters, which is to say I have way too many of them to answer this question.

45: What is a sound you really hate? >> Mouth sounds.

46: A sound you really love? >> The sounds people make when they’re aroused but trying to keep it together.

47: Can you do a backflip? >> Not even a little bit. I saw a video where someone taught himself how to do backflips in a single afternoon. I was duly impressed.

48: Can you do the splits? >> No.

49: Favorite actor and/or actress? >> Idris Elba. Actress... maybe Rutina Wesley.

50: Favorite book? >> Ha!

51: How are you feeling right now? >> Neutral.

52: What color would you like your hair to be right now? >> I really don’t care.

53: When did you feel happiest? >> ---

54: Something that calms you down? >> Time.

55: Have any mental disorders? >> I’m more than pretty sure I do, but I haven’t been properly diagnosed a day in my life.

56: What does your URL mean? >> It was a play on “Lost Carcosa”. It eventually came to just represent... me. Now it’s a brand of sorts, so I am loath to use any other username (save for blackThirteen, which I sometimes use on websites where it’s not already taken by someone else; blackThirteen + foundCarcosa = blackCarcosa, which is what I really should be using, but it’s a little late now).

57: What three words describe you the most? >> Just three? Ha!

58: Do you believe in evolution? >> I have been convinced of evolution’s veracity.

59: What makes you unfollow a blog? >> Over a month of inactivity or a change to content that doesn’t interest me are the two main reasons I unfollow. Sometimes I unfollow for things like political platforming or too much unsourced content or having too much of the same kind of content on my dashboard or... any number of reasons, really. Sometimes a person’s opinion (or the way they present their opinion) just pisses me off and I’m not invested enough in the blog to keep them around anyway.

60: What makes you follow a blog? >> Content that I enjoy, usually. It’s pretty simple. Sometimes I have compulsive following sprees and then I have to prune later, which is a thing about myself that I’ve just gotten used to.

61: Favorite kind of person: >> Right.

62: Favorite animal(s): >> Snakes, spiders, otters, capybaras, and so on.

63: Name three of your favorite blogs. >> transistorxiii, lilithsconcubine (bet money she’ll have changed her url again by the time I post this, lmao), coldalbion.

64: Favorite emoticon: >> The cry-laughing one. I abuse the shit out of that face.

65: Favorite meme: >> Right now, probably BONELESS or that one image with the guy and the two girls that is so goddamn versatile that I haven’t gotten sick of it yet despite the fact that it’s everywhere.

66: What is your MBTI personality type? >> My last result was INTJ. I don’t care much for MBTI anymore.

67: What is your star sign? >> Gemini sun, Gemini moon, Scorpio rising, etc etc.

68: Can your dog roll over on command, if you have a dog? >> ---

69: What outfit out of all your clothes do you like to wear the most? >> Ghast brand rave pants and a Doctor Strange shirt, it seems.

70: Post a selfie or two? >> http://foundcarcosa.tumblr.com/tagged/this-malleable-shell

71: Do you have platform shoes? >> I don’t.

72: What is one random but interesting fact about yourself? >> I used to be extremely competent at Guitar Hero / Rock Band because back when those games were popular, Best Buy and Circuit City would have stations set up in their stores where you could play them; and because I was homeless and tumblr wasn’t invented to become my biggest timesink yet, I would just stay in the stores playing guitar games all day. So I got good at it. As one does.

73: Can you do a front flip? >> No.

74: Do you like birds? >> Sure.

75: Do you like to swim? >> I can’t swim, so I don’t know if I’d like it or not. I mean, probably.

76: Is swimming or ice skating more fun to you? >> I can’t do either.

77: Something you wish didn’t exist: >> Meh.

78: Some thing you wish did exist: >> Everything I can conceive does exist... in some form, on some plane.

79: Piercings you have? >> Earlobes and septum.

80: Something you really enjoy doing: >> Playing video games.

81: Favorite person to talk to: >> Can Calah.

82: What was your first impression of Tumblr? >> I was extremely confused by tumblr when I first tried it out. So I abandoned it for a little over a year, and then I had to make a new account when I came back because I’d forgotten the login for the old one.

83: How many followers do you have? >> Here, 629.

84: Can you run a mile within ten minutes? >> I can’t run a mile, period.

85: Do your socks always match? >> No. I don’t bother matching my socks. Mismatched ones are more fun, anyway.

86: Can you touch your toes and keep your legs straight completely? >> No.

87: What are your birthstones? >> Emerald, I think? I forget the other.

88: If you were an animal, which one would you be? >> *waggles Mordred’s spidery legs*

89: If a flower could aesthetically represent you, what kind would it be? >> Probably a black calla lily.

90: A store you hate? >> Abercrombie and Fitch. Their store is fragranced or something. Like they put cologne swatches in the air ducts. IDFK. It’s aggravating. Also, I hate that kind of fashion.

91: How many cups of coffee can you drink in one day? >> I usually drink zero.

92: Would you rather be able to fly or read minds? >> Flying is more interesting than being Sookie Stackhouse.

93: Do you like to wear camo? >> No.

94: Winter or summer? >> I have a preference for winter.

95: How long can you hold your breath for? >> I don’t know.

96: Least favorite person? >> ---

97: Someone you look up to: >> *insert obvious joke here*

98: A store you love? >> Trash & Vaudeville. I wonder if it’s closed / moved yet.

99: Favorite type of shoes >> I prefer combat boot type shoes.

100: Where do you live? >> *grumbles*

101: Are you a vegetarian or vegan? If so, why? >> Pescatarian. I just don’t care for meat much. I’ll eat a chicken sandwich sometimes, but otherwise I’ll stick to seafood.

102: What is your favorite mineral or gem? >> Smoky quartz is nice. Bismuth is cool as shit. Geodes are where it’s at, though.

103: Do you drink milk? >> No.

104: Do you like bugs? >> Most of them, yeah.

105: Do you like spiders? >> My children. <3

106: Something you get paranoid about? >> My physical health, sometimes.

107: Can you draw?: >> I can. I can’t draw well, though.

108: Nosiest question you have ever been asked? >> I don’t know. Nosy questions don’t bother me, though.

109: A question you hate being asked? >> Anything regarding my gender. Like, who cares. Stop boring me.

110: Ever been bitten by a spider? >> Not that I’m aware of.

111: Do you like the sound of waves at the beach? >> Oh, yes.

112: Do you prefer cloudy or sunny days? >> It depends on how I feel that day in general. Either is good, but sometimes one is definitely better than the other.

113: Someone you’d like to kiss or cuddle right now: >> ---

114: Favorite cloud type: >> Definitely cumulonimbus.

115: What color do you wish the sky was? >> My eyes interpret the sky as a variety of colours depending on time of day, weather conditions, and what pair of sunglasses I have on, and you know what, that’s good enough for me.

116: Do you have freckles? >> No.

117: Favorite thing about a person: >> ---

118: Fruits or vegetables? >> All of the above.

119: Something you want to do right now: >> I’m fine with what I’m doing.

120: Is the ocean or sky prettier? >> How could I possibly choose one over the other...? I like it best when I can observe both at the same time, actually. Maximum loveliness.

121: Sweet or sour foods? >> Savoury, spicy, sour. Sweetness only as a balancing agent.

122: Bright or dim lights? >> Dim and diffuse, always.

123: Do you believe in a certain magical creature? >> I am open to all experiences.

124: Something you hate about Tumblr: >> The poor functionality bits. Coding issues, inefficiency in design, stuff I can’t do anything about because I don’t work there.

125: Something you love about Tumblr: >> Everything else, more or less. I wouldn’t spend so much time here if I wasn’t genuinely enjoying myself.

126: What do you think about the least? >> How would I know?

127: What would you want written on your tombstone? >> I am not interested in a tombstone at all.

128: Who would you like to punch in the face right now? >> Someone sexy who had a kink for being punched in the face.

129: What is something you love but also hate about yourself? >> The fact that I am so easily bored and so interested in experience leads to interesting experiences and a tendency to be open to new things... but sometimes it just leads to recklessness and irritability.

130: Do you smile with your teeth showing for pictures? >> Yeah, most of the time.

131: Computer or TV? >> Computer, which is often used as a television anyway.

132: Do you like roller coasters? >> I do.

133: Do you get motion sickness or seasickness? >> No.

134: Are your ears free or attached? >> Unattached.

135: Do you believe in karma? >> The original concept of karma is more understandable to me than the modern colloquial definition.

136: On a scale of 1-10, how attractive would you say you are? >> I’m a solid 8 to myself, but you know.

137: What nicknames do you have/have had? >> Rev, Eddie, and Dio are my most used nicknames as of now.

138: Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends? >> I have always had Companions.

139: Have you ever seen a therapist/shrink? >> Yes.

140: Would you say you are a good or bad influence to others? >> It doesn’t matter to me either way.

141: Do you prefer giving or receiving gifts/help? >> I love to give gifts, but I also love to receive them. No reason I should have to choose. What I hate is compulsory gift exchanging. Miss me completely with that bull mess.

142: What makes you angry?: >> Eh.

143: How many languages do you speak fluently? >> One.

144: Do you prefer boys, girls, and/or non-binaries? >> Meh.

145: Are you androgynous? >> More or less.

146: Favorite physical thing about yourself: >> I am pretty fond of my facial shape and features, and the kinda “greyboy” androgynous shape of my body. Also, this melanin is poppin. I would gladly take a little more, even.

147: Favorite thing about your personality: >> What’s a personality?

148: Name three people you would like to talk to right now in person. >> Meh?

149: If you could go back into time and live in one era, which would you choose? >> Why would I do that?

150: Do you like BuzzFeed? >> It hasn’t given me reason to dislike it.

151: How did you meet your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner? >> I met Sparrow on tumblr.

152: Do you like to kiss others’ foreheads or hands for platonic reasons? >> No.

153: Do you like to play with others’ hair? >> That used to be a big stim of mine, but Tommy, my first boyfriend, broke me out of that pretty badly and I never got back into it. It’s like a mental block now. Aggravating.

154: What embarrasses you? >> Meh?

155: Something that makes you nervous/anxious: >> ---

156: Biggest lie you have ever told: >> I have no idea.

157: How many people are you following? >> 1,047 right now.

158: How many posts do you have on your blog(s)? >> This will be #20,540.

159: How many drafts do you have on your blog(s)? >> 6.

160: How many likes do you have on your blog(s)? >> 87,104.

161: Last time you cried and why: >> The last memory of crying that I have is when I was listening to these videos of Pearl Jam songs with just the vocals and guitar solos isolated. I lost my shit in the middle of “Black” and the only reason I remember is because I thought to myself, fucking hell, some tumblr survey is going to ask me about the last time I cried and I’m gonna have to tell the congregation that I cried because I love Eddie Vedder too much and I started laughing like an idiot.

162: Do you have long or short hair? >> Short. Very short.

163: Longest your hair has ever been: >> To my shoulders, I think, as a child. Not including weaves, braids, and so on.

164: Why do you like, dislike, or have neutral feelings about religion? >> I love religion because... oh, I don’t know. It’s one of those things I don’t question too much because I’m not sure it has an easy answer. It just deeply resonates with me, is all. Yes, the whole concept of religion. Not any specific one, or anything. Just the root of it all. I don’t like what people do with religion a lot of the time, not at all... but whatever. People gonna people.

165: Do you really care how the universe and world was created? >> Well, sure. It’s fucking fascinating. Even if the theories are only theories, they’re still interesting to me. I’ll probably never know, but that won’t ever stop me from being curious.

166: Do you like to wear makeup? >> Yes.

167: Can you stand on your hands or head for more than thirty seconds? >> No.

168: Did you answer the questions you were asked truthfully? >> Sure.

#surveysofsamedi #caveat emptor; this has almost 200 questions

2 notes · View notes

kinetic-elaboration · 5 years ago

Text

June 21: Food, Friends, and ACDC

Went to a retirement party today. (Again lol. I hope the ptb acknowledge that this hemorrhaging of staff is A Problem.) These events are always a little awkward for me because I tend to know some degree of the behind the scenes drama around them, and thus the celebratory nature of them rings a little false. Like, you say you value this person, they’re so needed, they’re so necessary, but I know you’re not going to replace them? (See: the saga of the receptionist.) Or you talk about how impressive 34 years of service is, but just gloss over that it is conspicuously not 35 years of service because the retiree couldn’t stand a single year more working with some of these (new admin) people? You give her a big card in public but almost made her cry in private when she told you she was retiring and you were like ‘yeah whatever’?

It’s not that the whole display is false, because I do think a lot of people aren’t dumb and know this person keeps the school afloat, and appreciate her for real. But some of it is clearly false because if she were more respected, she wouldn’t have been like ‘bye bitches I’m leaving at the end of the month’ with 34 and a half years of service.

Anyway, the event was half-nice, half-awkward. We were gathered for quite a while waiting for the honoree, and then she came in to ACDC but in a sort of belated way (from my vantage point). A couple of speeches were made--the Dean, the former Dean--and then the retiree had to awkwardly remind the Dean that she wanted to say a few words at her own event (well, she was cool about it but I felt awkward lol).

Legit, I don’t know what’s going to happen without her because she does so much, but a lot of it is stuff that I think Certain People in Administration don’t really think is, like, hard or important. Or even real. Possibly tasks that they think are done by elves. You know, the sort of work that isn’t important until it’s not done and then you’re like “why is this falling apart? why is EVERYTHING falling apart?” and someone tells you “because you think everyone making less than $50k a year is unimportant and you didn’t replace anyone who retired and you’re asking the people who are left to do 10 jobs each for the price of one because you figured they had time because they don’t do anything anyway because they’re dumb stupid idiot babies who are basically all expendable but--surprise!--they are actually real human beings, who are doing their best, not your fucking robot slaves, and some things fall through the cracks when everyone is overworked, stressed, and bitter” and then you’re like “oh fuck, I played myself.” Except actually you played everyone, you ran something that was built carefully over decades (in this case, a very old law school) into the ground.

...Guess I am bit-ter lol.

After the speeches, we ate. The food was good but weirdly arranged, so it was hard to tell where to start, and where the lines was, and how long the line was. There was one little table with the plates and also meat and bread, then another table with everything else (sides, salad, etc.) and the forks/knives at the end. So you had to start at the plate end and work to the utensils, not skipping anything, but that wasn’t clear until you were in it. I’m pretty sure I cut in front of like a dozen people accidentally. And the drinks and desserts were clear on the other side of the room. And the tables were very tall (so tall that literally anyone under 5′5′‘ couldn’t climb onto the stools) and very wobbly. And the meat was hard to cut and the utensils were plastic. A perfect storm of potential disaster, you might say. Honestly I was this-close to just picking the thing up and eating it with my hands like a heathen. Also I spilled lemonade all over my bread.

But like I said it did taste good and I had a pleasant conversation with the youngest reference librarian about books. I told him about The Axe (he’d heard of the author, a rec from our former cataloguer, which so does not surprise me) and he told me about the 1930 and 1940s era Polish fiction he’s reading. He and I would honestly probably get along really well tbh but I always feel a little awkward around him, I don’t know why. Maybe because we’ve known each other for a while now but, as I said, not well, and we’re both the sort of awkward book nerds who’ve chosen librarianship as a life course, and so it’s like an inevitable weirdness.

#the year 2019 #2019: rl

0 notes

berjhawn · 8 years ago

Text

Elastic Heart - Prologue

Warnings: Fighting, death, murder, abduction, ETC

Pairings: Hobbit X OFC ; Thranduil X OFC ; Fili x OFC

A/N: I wrote this after the battle of five armies came out, It is an OC fan-fiction. I hope you enjoy it while i work on finishing the other fanfics i am currently working on. This one starts out pretty dark just Fyi

Summary:

Melethril is the daughter of the great elven silversmith Celebrimbor, Everything in her world is just and right before her father falls prey to Sauron and creates the one ring. after that her world is sent though a whirlwind. Now years after the death and dishonor of her father she is called upon to help a certain group of dwarves on their quest to reclaim a homeland. However she gets more than she bargains for as she soon finds out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ada!” I cry out as I run into my father’s waiting arms.

I smile brightly as he lifts me up into the air and says, “Mae Govannen Melethril.” I wrap my arms around my father’s broad shoulder and bury my face in his raven hair. “How are you Sell-amin?”

“I am slightly bored Ada, can I help you with your work?” I ask as he slowly sets me back down on my feet.

He smiles brightly as he gently takes my hands in his and says, “Melethril, you know your mother did not approve of you being a silversmith.”

“But Ada I love creating things from silver and metal.” I say pleading with him to allow me to help him.

“Perhaps later when you are older,” He says as he gently pats the top of my hands.

“Ada, I am better at creating swords than I am at being a royal lady.”

His soft blue eyes peer down into my emerald ones as he says, “I know you wish to follow in my footsteps but you need to forge your own path. Now go on, I’m sure Thranduil is looking for you.”

I roll my eyes as I say, “Ada, No matter how much you and his father plan we will never be together.”

My father smirks as he says, “Never say never my child, now go I must meet with the council to discuss our battles strategies.” I nod curtly as I slowly watch him leave my sight. After Annatar’s betrayal my father had vowed to make him pay. I sigh as I slowly turn and go to find Thranduil. It was true that my father, Celebrimbor, and Thranduil’s father Oropher wanted us to wed one day; but I didn’t want to be tied down to anyone.

As I slowly make my way through my home of Ost-in-Edhil, I think back to a time when everything was much simpler. I was so deep in thought that I didn’t hear Thranduil walk up behind me. “Hiril vuin Melethril,” I hear his voice call out and I smile softly as I turn to face him.

“Quel andune Thranduil,” He was tall for an elf his age. Even though I was older than him he towered over me. I had to admit that he was handsome for an elf; his long silver like hair was just now passing his shoulders while his tiffany blue eyes shone out against the night sky like beacons of light. I pause my footsteps to wait for him to reach me. “How goes the battle plans?” I ask searching his face for an emotion that would betray him.

“I’m afraid nothing new has been said, save for them marching out on the morrow for a council with the dwarves of Khazad-dûm.” He says his melodic voice ringing off the walls.

“I wish I could go with them. I can’t stand just sitting idly by while Sauron is out there plotting his next betrayal.” I say my anger starting to rise in my chest.

“Melethril, you are one of the most talented silversmiths I have ever had the pleasure of meeting but I fear the battlefield is not for you.” He says as he gently takes my hand in his. “Why do you wish for death?”

“I do not wish for it, I just wish for equality. If I had been born a son I would be joining you on the battlefield.”

His grip tightens on mine and his eyes find mine as he says, “But then I would not be able to be beside you.”

I chuckle as I pull my hands from his and say, “You are my dearest and most loyal friend Thranduil, but I do not think of you that way; at least not now.”

He nods and I notice the sadness in his eyes as he says, “Then I will take up no more of your time Hiril vuin.” He walks away and I suddenly feel like a knife has pierced my heart. I watch him disappear before I clench my jaw and head back off through my home to the one place I felt happy, the forge. Little did I know of the wrath and ruin that would soon ensue?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later I am sitting in my father’s forge thinking about how I had just brushed off Thranduil when my father bursts through the door eyes wild with fear. “Melethril!” He calls out his voice full of panic.

I jump to my feet and say, “Ada what is it?” Suddenly I feel a presence behind me and I turn to see Annatar standing directly behind me, his fiery eyes glaring at me. I gulp down a breath of air as I slowly stumble backwards away from him.

“Annatar leave my child alone!” My father calls out as he tries to hurry to my side. Then like lightning Annatar’s hand shoots out and wraps his fingers around my neck lifting me into the air. I flail around in his grasp kicking and scratching him in an attempt to free myself.

“Where are they Celebrimbor?” Annatar’s distorted voice calls out to my father.

“You will never have them!” He says as he cautiously makes his way over to us.

“A-Ada!” I cough out the air starting to leave my lungs. Then with one last burst of adrenaline I lift my legs up and thrust them into his chest making him release me and stumble backwards. “Ada!” I cry out as I grasp my throat and run toward my father who quickly wraps his arms around me.

“Are you alright Melethril?” He asks his arms holding to me tightly.

“I am Ada,” I say as I gently rub my throat. Then without another word a hoard of Orcs burst through the forge doors and rush us. My father and I fight against them until we are overrun.

I find myself on my knees a sword about to slit my throat when I her Annatar say, “Stop! No one is to harm her, yet!” I stare at him confused as an Orc jerks me to my feet holding my arms behind my back. My eyes soon find my father who is now forcibly knelt down before Annatar. “I will not ask you again Celebrimbor, where are the three rings you made in secret?”

Celebrimbor smirks as he says, “I will never tell you.” I smile as I know that no matter what happens my father will not break. Annatar smirks as he says, “If you will not tell me, then I shall torture you and your offspring until you divulge their hiding place. Take them away,” I suddenly feel a wave of fear flood over me and I stare at my father wide eyed.

“Do not fear my child; do not give them the satisfaction of seeing you in pain.” He says as they drag him past me.

Tears threaten to fill my eyes but I keep them at bay. I didn’t know what was going to happen but a fear of the unknown hovered over my body like a storm cloud. Even though I was facing torture I found that my mind faded back to Thranduil and what I wouldn’t give to have him here with me.

The days that followed were full of tortures of every kind. Floggings, brandings, and my beautiful long auburn hair was cut right above my shoulders. Elves didn’t cut their hair for if they did it never grew back. Days past and I still hadn’t seen my father. They had kept us separate but I knew he wouldn’t have wanted me to tell Annatar where the three rings were. I was starting to give up on surviving when all of the sudden I am ripped from my torture room and brought to the front line of battle where Sauron stood facing an army of elves.

My clothes were ripped and torn from the lashings the Orcs had given me that they barely covered my body. My eyes were blurry so it took me a moment to realize what was hanging like a standard from a flag pole. Blinking a few times my eyes widen in horror as I scream out in anguish at the sight before me. My father’s tortured lifeless body was riddled with arrows as it hung from a banner pole. “ADA!!” I scream out as I try to fight against my captors and run to him.

“NO!!!” I scream out over and over again until my voice gives out. I fall to my knees tears pouring from my eyes. I felt like my heart had been ripped from my chest. I slowly turn to Sauron and suddenly feel an unknown rage feel my body. I jump to my feet and start running toward him only to get jerk backwards by a pair of shackles I didn’t know I had chained to me. “I swear I will kill you!” I scream out at him as the Orcs forcibly drag me back away from him.

I hear the Orcs laugh around me and my body starts to radiate anger. I wanted nothing more than to slit all their throats. I look around me and quickly find the Orc who has the keys to my shackles. As I spot him I smile deviously. When all the chaos started I would free myself and get my revenge. I didn’t dare look across the fields at the other elves. I just couldn’t.

I hear Sauron give the order to attack and as the Orcs run past me I make my move. I jump over my hands placing them in front of me as I turn toward the Orc holding my chains. He stares at me like I am to be his next meal and I smirk as I rush him. He lunges his sword forward and I gracefully dodge it as I grab the keys from his belt. I quickly unlock my shackles and tossing them down to the ground grab a sword and dagger from a fallen Orc and start laying waste to all in my way.

I make my way to where my father was hanging and upon reaching him quickly cut him down and carry him away from the battle. When we are at a safe distance from the battlefield a gently place my father’s body on the ground and once again feel the tears pour from my eyes. “Ada? Please wake up!” I say through my tears as I gently cup his face. “Please, I’ll do anything. I will continue my studies I will stop being a smith please just come back to me!” My heart breaks as his eyes remain glossy with death.

“You’re all I have left you cannot leave me. Please just open your eyes!” I beg him but I am too late. I am too busy mourning my father that I don’t notice a group of men sneak up on me until they jump me. I thrash around in their clutch trying to get free but my energy was spent on freeing my father. As they drag me away I reach out my hand and scream out for my father, I couldn’t just leave him there; but I had no choice. I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head then everything goes dark.

Will Continue in - An Unexpected Journey

23 notes · View notes

merak-zoran · 8 years ago

Text

In Response to Yesterday’s Dorian Comic:

Trigger Warnings: Homophobia, Violence, Assault, Racism: Please click the links in this post only if you’re in an okay place mentally to deal with them.

I wanted to talk a little about the comic posted yesterday, the one featuring Samson calling Dorian the f-slur and then killing him.

I'm not sure if I can say that this comic triggered me, but it certainly had an affect on me. I was outside, at work, on my break. Enjoying myself, scrolling through my dash on my phone, having a smoke, and then I saw it.

See, I don't like Dorian and Cullen as a ship, so I have that blacklisted. But blacklist doesn't work on mobile. I never would have seen it if I wasn't on my phone. (Actually, that's not true. So many people called this comic out that I would have seen it eventually.) Once I saw it, I had to go into the work bathroom and shake and cry a little.

Let me start by talking a little about what Dorian means to me. You guys may have noticed that I am a bit of a Dorian fan. I've spent the last two years thinking about him. I bought the World of Thedas books because I wanted to know more about him. I've played the game six times and romanced him twice, I've read every bit of meta and obsessed over the Dorian tags. Because of this, I thought I had seen every stupid trope, every bit of wrongheaded thinking over Dorian's character and what he means to people. He's been characterized as Mr Gay and Sassy, he's been whitewashed, he's had his gorgeous nose sanded down to a nub, he's had women try to ship him with The One True Woman that he needs for some reason. Some of these things are stupid, most of them are a form of violence.

Fiction, as I have stated over and over again, is important. We tell each other stories to make sense of the world. We make up characters and project ourselves and our beliefs on them. These things matter because they help shape our perceptions, they help us learn more about people not like us, they help us see the world through a different view. Fiction matters. The same holds true for negative stereotypes. When we tell a story where Black people do not exist, we are telling the world that we only recognize white people. When we tell stories that glorify abuse, we're telling the world that abuse is okay.

And so yesterday, oldstupidtemplar decided to tell the world that killing a gay man of color after calling him a slur is how they think ship conflicts should be resolved.

It is telling, I think, that the person who drew this is Russian. Many Russian fan artists have been called out for whitewashing. It's always the same excuse, too. “There are no different skin tones here so I just draw what I know.” Never mind the endless trove of references available to show you how to find brown on your color palette. “We don't have racism in Russia.” You sure the fuck do.

But Russia is homophobic. Being gay, or any other sexuality that isn't straight in Russia can lead to your death. Russia has passed anti gay laws. From the Human Rights Watch website:

“'Violence experienced by LGBT people in Russia is unmistakably motivated by homophobia, but the authorities deliberately ignore that these are hate crimes and fail to protect victims,' said Tanya Cooper, Russia researcher at Human Rights Watch.”

It's not surprising to me that the artist of this comic has declared that they are not homophobic.

People like to hurt Dorian. That's something I've seen a lot of in my time in fandom. They like to force him to be with women. They like to kill his love interest. They like to imagine him beaten and harmed. These are the same people who will ship any two attractive men with each other and use that as evidence that they are not homophobic.

This is a straight woman problem. I've spoken at length with a friend of mine who has told me how much he identifies with Dorian. And he's pointed out that women like Dorian because he seems like the “safe” option. They can project their fantasies onto him because he’s attractive. It's part of the reason so many women ship Dorian with elves. Elves are thin and lithe and can be coded as feminine. Look at the Dorian and Cadash tag, then look at the Dorian and Lavellen tag. Adaar, to an extent, gets more love from Dorian, but that's because you can make a big beefy Qunari traditionally sexy, and give Dorian the 'feminine' role so many straight women desperately need. Dwarves are not traditionally attractive by fandom standards. (Which is weird, because with all the people who love height differences, you'd think we'd see more Dorian and Cadash kissing art)

(I know you're reading this and asking why I chose an elf to ship Dorian with. It's because I like playing as elves and that's who I picked to do that romance. I wasn't expecting to fall in love with my own OC. But that's another discussion to have another time.)

Here's the thing I want to leave you guys with.

When you have talent and drive, why do you want to use it to hurt people? When you want to write fic, why do you choose to write the only canon dark skinned Black woman getting tortured? When you want to draw, why do you choose to stab Dorian through the chest? When you want to pair art with fic, why do you choose to describe dark skin as a curse?

What are your motivations? What kind of story do you want to tell?

And is it yours to be telling in the first place?

I am not going to advocate for sending a single goddamned word to oldstupidtemplar. Block, ignore, move forward, support artists and writers who don't use their platform to spread violent rhetoric.

What I am going to do is ask that all of you make an effort to support content that isn't racist, homophobic, transphobic or ableist. Keep motivating those talented artists and writers who write respectfully. Keep buying books written by marginalized people who want to tell their stories. Keep boosting artwork that isn't whitewashed, that doesn't promote violence and abuse.

(Anyone who sends me a message about free speech and censorship is getting blocked on sight.)

#homophobia cw #racism tw #violence tw #assault tw

198 notes · View notes