#marigoldvance

[marigoldvancebitscreener]

Marigold Vance

Marigold Vance is an Investment Manager with over 15 years of experience managing investments for large investment funds. In the investment management industry, she is known as a "steel rose" due to the track record of generating over $20 million in returns.

Marigold Vance | Investment Manager at BitScreener

Gender: Female

Year of Birth: 1985

Place of Birth: Nevada

Company: BitScreener

About me: https://bitscreener.com/blogchain/authors/marigold-vance

Experience

Over 15 years of investment management experience.

Broad knowledge and extensive understanding of Binance and many other crypto exchanges.

Successfully assisted 500 clients in achieving a financial goal of $100,000.

Educational Background

2010 - 2014: Graduated with a major in Economic Investment from MIT Sloan School of Management.

2015 – 2017: Pursued a doctoral degree at the University of Pennsylvania.

My Social

https://www.linkedin.com/in/marigoldvance/

Hastag: #marigoldvance, #bitscreener

[i-am-pinkie]

This is another of those aus that I go back to again and again.....it's just that good 😊😁

Even if he never heard those words again it was alright.

He knew.

for @shinigami714​; inspired by the truly incredible Kings of Carven Stone series.

voilà minou, un p’tit cadeau pour toi! (*≧ω≦*)

Keep reading

[gatheringfiki]

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

Fili/Kili, T

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

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

Heart & Home

—

The call had come at the ungodly hour of four in the morning. Fili had been awake, occupied, Kili twisted into a position that would make a contortionist jealous. They’d decided a week before to holiday at the family cabin in the Blue Mountains; a winter wonderland of utter solitude, dense woodland around them for as far as the eye could see.

The hunters were on strike. Because of course they were with Uncle Frerin leading the union to revolt against the very government he was a member of. Ever the rebel. Still, it meant that the woods were empty of prying eyes and Fili and Kili could do as they pleased in their time off.

Except that, now, Fili had to go.

                “Right, I’ll be ready in an hour,” He said merrily, detangling himself from a disgruntled Kili who huffed at the ceiling. “Tell Dwalin I’ll need a suit and copies of the agreement to look over before we get there.”

With that, Fili ended the call and tossed his phone on the nightstand, smiling at Kili who looked back with a glare.

                “Why do you have to go?” Kili grumbled, one arm flung across his brow.

Fili chuckled and took a seat at the edge of the bed, leaning over Kili to explain, “Because Granddad isn’t feeling well enough to travel.”

                “What about Thorin? Why can’t he go?”

Fili’s expression turned amused, “Because Uncle has about as much political tact as a wild boar on hallucinogenics.”

                “Vivid,” Kili commented, rolling his eyes. “If you’re going, I’m going with you,” He decided, shifting to sit up, the sheet pooling around his furry navel.

Fili shook his head and grinned, “Not a chance, Kee, you know the rules when dealing with the Fae in their borders.”

                “Oh please, they wouldn’t do anything so risky if they intend to join the MEU.”

                “We both know that’s not true. Remember what happened with the Merfolk in Númenór?”

Kili’s lips twisted into a scowl, “No. I was entranced. It’s like it didn’t happen, therefore it shouldn’t count.”

Fili tossed his head back and laughed. His eyes sparkled when he told Kili, “We had to send their military divers after you, Kee, you were almost sold to the Siren King as a consort.”

                “No idea what you’re talking about.” Kili insisted, crossing his arms and glaring out the window. He turned back to Fili, “And the Fae aren’t Merfolk, Fee, they don’t lure handsome Dwarves into the ocean with promises of ale and fatty meat.”

                “You’re right,” Fili agreed as he flicked the tips of Kili’s nose affectionately, “They steal people’s hearts and then enslave them.” Fili tilted forward to press a kiss between Kili’s expressive eyebrows, “And you, Kili Durin, are my heart. Do you want me to be a slave to the Fae Chieftain’s every whim while you get doted on in a tower cell?”

Kili considered this, the image not as horrific as it would be in reality, “They would treat me very well.” He grinned, cheeky, before accepting that, “But, no, I don’t want you enslaved to anyone’s whims but mine.”

                “Much appreciated.”

Dwalin arrived about forty minutes later, the roar of helicopter blades following him into the cabin until he closed the front door. He met Fili and Kili in the kitchen, a surly expression on his face, his gaze instantly falling on the fancy coffee machine beside the stove. Without a word, he dumped the garment bag and shoebox on the island where Fili stood and marched to the coffee machine with purpose, only grunting in acknowledgment when Fili announced he was going to change and would be ready in ten.

                “Why doesn’t Balin every ask me to go to these summits when Granddad is ill?” Kili asked Dwalin after Dwalin had swallowed his first sip of coffee. Black. With two mounds of sugar and a sprinkle of nutmeg.

Dwalin snorted and indicated with his chin toward Kili’s face, “You come with closed captioning, lad. Just like your mother.”

                “Rude.”

                “Yeah, your eyebrows say as much.”

Just then, Fili returned to the kitchen, dressed impeccably in a deep blue suit, a pale button-down beneath, and a tie sporting a muted though festive pattern. Kili swooned. Dwalin snorted, poking a finger between Kili’s eyes as if to say, your captions are showing. Ducking in for a quick kiss, Fili promised he’d be back by the following morning.

                “I promise.” He said, “Then we’ll spend the rest of the week in bed, just like we planned.”

Kili sighed dramatically, “Just leave me here to languish while you jet off to be important, I suppose. Sad little Kili, all alone in the middle of nowhere. What if a bear eats me?”

Fili snickered, “The only bears in the area are Skin-changers, Kee, and they’re all human for the winter. And on strike. I think you’ll be fine.”

                “Fine,” Kili tried again, “What if a wayward Wraith comes to suck out my soul while I’m chopping wood?”

                “Why on Arda would you be chopping wood? We bought two cords from Lhûn last week.”

                “Mahal, Fili, would you just let me whinge and give me the love I’m so obviously demanding?”

With a fondness in his eyes, Fili dipped Kili and gave him a searing, passionate kiss, hot and hungry and everything Kili had been angling for. Kili was notably disheveled and glassy-eyed when Fili tipped him upright.

                “I’ll call when we get in, all right love?” Fili said, stroking Kili’s cheek with his thumb.

Kili’s gaze sharpened and he smirked, “See? Was that so hard?”

                “Not as hard—”

                “If you finish that sentence while I’m within earshot, I’ll get the Wraith myself,” Dwalin warned, scrolling fiercely through his phone, “They’re on payroll.”

Fili threw up his hands, backing a few steps away from Kili with a mischievous grin before turning and following Dwalin out the door and toward the waiting helicopter.

[marigoldvance]

So, I saw this (after watching Ghosts) and immediately thought: Kíli would buy this house. And Fíli would suffer for it. But it’s comedy gold, so it’s okay.

 Kíli decides it’s his, site unseen, apart from the brief instant he lays eyes on it – at a distance. From the road. On the wrong side of the high, wrought-iron fence (completely obscured by a thick cover of gnarled climbing plants) – when he and Fíli drive past on their way through the quiet town. 

A town, Fíli will have you know, that they had no intention of stopping in. Ever. Because Fíli had heard the rumors, okay? He’d done the research when they’d plotted their course and it was mutually (and vehemently) agreed upon that This Town was for appreciating in the review only. 

It’s a feeling; this sense of rightness, of belonging, of ownership. Amongst their family, Kíli’s known for his strong sense of intuition that tumbles violently into the realm of psychic ability. Used to it, Fíli hardly glimpses a thought for Kíli’s sudden and unprecedented interest in an overtly abandoned, probably haunted to hell, might-be-the-den-of-Satan’s-disciples house. 

S’great. Really.

Kíli convinces Fíli to stay for the night at the just as creepy local Inn whose proprietors look as weathered and old as the property itself. Fíli has a weird feeling vibrating in his bones, but Kíli’s smitten and on some sort of mission and Fíli can’t deny his brother when he gets like this. So, Fíli books the room. The crone at reception gives him a shiver-inducing, milky-eyed elevator stare and, without a word, hands him the key for what he’ll find out is the Newlywed Suite (one enormous four-poster and a deep, wide claw-foot tub sharing the moderately sized space). 

It’s of course midnight when Kíli drags Fíli out of bed, brown eyes unfocused and distant as they often get when Kíli’s not entirely in control of himself. It’s not possession, Kíli has insisted in the past, it’s more like being guided from the inside. 

Yeah, Fíli’s so profoundly uncomfortable with the intimacy involved in Kíli’s guiding that he has to recite all the poems he learned in Uni to keep from performing an exorcism. 

Life means all that it ever meant and really, though: Some stranger? Inside his brother? It is the same as it ever was where do they get off?! There is absolute and unbroken certainty and this isn’t jealousy, this is concern for Kíli’s welfare! What is death but a negligible accident but seriously, get out. Please and fuck you.*

The streets are empty as they wander to the DID YOU NOT READ ABOUT THE MURDERS, KÍLI? house, the town eerily silent in sleep. To Fíli, it’s as if he has cotton in his ears; even the noise of his footfalls on crunchy brown leaves doesn’t sound right, a little too murky and faraway. Kíli doesn’t notice or, more likely, doesn’t care. He holds Fíli’s hand – fingers laced, thumb gently stroking in reassurance that’s not very reassuring – and leads them through the front gate. Just like that. No fanfare, no crime, no spooky/whiny groan as it opens like the great maw of a monster. Just … an everyday gate opening as it’s wont to.

Fíli hesitates. Not because he’s afraid, he’s not (not shriek-at-the-first-jump-scare afraid, anyway), but because someone has to be cautious and it sure as shit isn’t Kíli who’s already dragging forward against the shackle of Fíli’s hand around his wrist, towing Fíli behind him even as Fíli digs his heels into the ground.

            “Kee—”

Naturally, Kíli ignores Fíli’s warning, shakes off his grip and charges up the creepy stairs, across the creepy porch and into the conveniently unlocked creepy door that’s leaning partly off its hinges, disappearing into the dense shadows beyond the threshold as though he’s waltzing into a friend’s house for tea.  

Cool. Cool coo-cool cool cool cool.

Well then. Just have to—Pffttt. Letsgogetonwithitokay.

Fíli hypes himself up; takes a long, satisfying breath, holding it in his lungs for a few seconds before releasing it over a few more: Kíli’s his brother, Kíli is his way more than a brother, and he has to make sure Kíli isn’t marching into House on Haunted Hill. Which this probably is, if Fíli’s research wasn’t exaggerated. Why can’t they ever find a place as modern and bright as Kriticos’ clockwork mansion? Huh? WHY.

Kíli’s upstairs when Fíli finally tracks him down, the black shadows not as depriving once his eyes adjusted. There’s enough light filtering through the grimy windows to see by. Kíli’s in the middle of the room, arms crossed, one hand under his chin – a real Thinker – because he’s clearly considering something that Fíli is in no way going to be consulted about. Kíli’s gaze is set and it’s definitely not on the torn away antique wallpaper on the opposite wall.

            “Right.” Kíli says about ten minutes later, once Fíli’s found the courage to sit his arse on the dusty bedspread – aggressively ignoring the mysterious-but-not-really-though-are-they-? stains in the fabric. Fíli pops his head up and looks at his brother who’s now moving with purpose out the room and toward the stairs. “C’mon Fee!” He calls over his shoulder, trampling down, avoiding the holes at the behest of the disembodied voice at his ear, “We have a deed to sign!”

Oh no they bloody don’t.

But oh yes they bloody do.

Fíli shares all he learned about the house with Kíli, urgently explaining the number of suspicious and gruesome deaths that took place on the grounds Kíli is determined to own. There are wild, sharp gestures and a range of voice pitches and Kíli keeps humming to himself as if Fíli is a ghost who can’t get through to him which, rude. And seriously? They have somewhere to be! (“Not anymore!”)

The bank is too eager to hand Kíli the keys, practically shoving them in Kíli’s hand along with all the necessary documents, and isn’t that a sign? No? ‘Spose not with the way Kíli is grinning like the cat who got the canary. And then off they go, back to the house that gives Fíli an aneurysm in his soul just to look at, Kíli skipping up the pathway, warbling about putting a list together of the supplies they’ll need for the renovation, “— and they seem keen on a new parlor; and there’s something about the eaves, don’t let me forget! And they don’t want us interfering with the integrity of the house but that’s not a problem, is it? And—” on and on it goes.

Fíli is helpless and resigned and follows Kíli’s directions: Paint this wall, hide that portrait, don’t bother locking the bathroom doors, they can peek through walls anyway. Fun. Fíli’s now experienced the discomfort of showering with his swim trunks on for a week.

A month in, Fíli learns all the ghosts’ names, not that it matters since he can’t see them. Or hear them. Or interact with them in any way, shape or form outside of Kíli relaying messages to him about all the things Fíli’s done wrong during the repairs. Ungrateful motherfu—

            “Fee, can you believe we open next week?”

Oh yes, they’ve converted the terribly unsettling, tragically ghost-infested house into the new town Inn. When Fíli was given the news he almost didn’t catch the, “The old Inn is run by phantoms who are ready to move on so —” hastily packed into his brother’s diatribe like an afterthought. Fíli wonders if Kíli speaks so fast on purpose, hoping that Fíli can’t make out all the words he says. 

No, this doesn’t make Fíli paranormal-inclined like Kíli. Phantoms are physical impressions that anyone can see and interact with on grounds the phantoms own or have acute ties to. Kíli does a masterful job explaining the astounding and impressive facts to Fíli; it’s all very sound supernatural-science and makes complete and utter sense however, the author doesn’t feel inclined to share atm (҂⌣̀_⌣́)

Fíli’s mind seizes and proceeds to get monumentally stuck on Kíli’s oh-so-casual drop of: “We stayed in an Inn that’s itself trapped in interdimensional limbo, blah blah blah Twilight Zone blah blah” because, hold up, rewind, does that mean they were, in reality, outside the whole time? Did they fuck al fresco for the viewing pleasure of the houses on either side? Shouldn’t they be compensated?!

Kíli isn’t forthcoming with answers, distracted as he is by his excitement and the next thing Fíli knows, Kíli’s clinging to him like a koala, laughing and smacking kisses to Fíli’s cheeks and nose and, yes, it works; Fíli lets his frustrations melt into the ether. Where apparently their room in the Inn exists. Fantastic.

Is that where his missing socks went?

Whatever, with Kíli looking at him like that, like he’s the center of the universe, Fíli can’t bring himself to care much, chooses to band one arm around Kíli’s tapered waist, the other hooked under Kíli’s tight arse, and enjoy the weight of Kíli so thoroughly wrapped around him. 

At the end of the day, Kíli now owns a property teeming with ghosts who enjoy watching reruns of Faulty Towers on Fíli’s laptop during the day; who can’t talk to Fíli but sure as hell make their presence known by flickering lights or making weird smells to communicate their displeasure at his handiwork. Sometimes, Fíli is convinced that they played a part in the demise of his favorite Frankenstein’s Monster figurine.

Fíli and Kíli promote the Inn as the “most haunted house in the country” which, as you can imagine, attracts all the sanest, most ordinary people … 

Yet, all in all – okay, fine, Fíli can admit it – they’re happy. Like, actually, deeply, emotionally/mentally/spiritually at peace and content and so fucking happy and Fíli wouldn’t change a damn thing, not even the bloody ghost parade who, at this point, exist to make him miserable.

Fíli gets used to wearing his swim trunks in the shower …

-*-

* extract from Henry Scott-Holland’s poem Death Is Nothing At All (woven into Fíli’s messy stream of consciousness)

[i-am-still-bb]

@legolaslovely​ @marigoldvance​ 

i’m a huge fan of dean and didn’t know anyone wrote for him. i’m so glad i found your blog. your writing is incredible and i just spent the last hour reading all of your master list. i’m just glad someone loves dean as much as i do

All that in an hour 😅🤣 you've been busy!

Thank you for sending me this message and thank you for reading all of my stories! I'd love to know what you enjoyed the most! 💗

Dean is an incredible actor and person who has played extremely loveable characters, so I'm happy to give him (and them) the attention that's so well deserved.

There are a few of us around who write for him, so if you'd like some rec's let me know!

[fikidurin]

Art for @marigoldvance​ Mafia-Verse (which you need to read if you haven’t already)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

(click for full size)

[linane-art]

hee hee, i saw your "asks" request and am super curious! because i adore your writing so much 😊 so: 25, 29 and 45 - if you wanna answer all three or just focus on one, ain't no thang 😉 *squish*

Hi Lovely,

Thank you for sending your questions! Answers below:

25) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

Answered here.

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like? 

Recently Kiss 23 and some of the other Kisses. I am toying with an idea for a tiny sequel for it. Also Spellbound, just because it’s such a raw story, with a lot of emotions packed into few words. But it’s kind of come and gone, it would appear XD.

45) What spurs you on during the writing process?

Hmmm… I’m not sure, mostly just this need to get the writing out of my head. It bugs me until I do. And usually it bugs me because there’s a story there, which I’d like to share with other people, make them feel the stuff I’m feeling, but I can’t until it’s fnished. I often get frustrated with myself when I want to write, but the time just isn’t right, and then I have time, but the story just isn’t ‘fresh’ any more and it feels like even if I did write it, it would be sub-par quality.

I suppose after that it’s a little bit about the feedback and validation, so that there’s a proof that somebody else felt what you felt for the story too. But while I’m not immune to the problems of the lack of feedback, I think up to a point I have now trained myself to write for the sake of sharing alone and I’m happy with it. :)

Thank you!

[legolaslovely]

OH A SMILEY HAPPY LITTLE BABY LIVING HIS FLUFFY TAILED DREAMS I AM SO HAPPY!!!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Happiness intensifies

[zadien]

marigoldvance replied to your post “Okay I have to post this Saving chapter this Friday or this weekend. I...”

OMG BAMBI YES ����������������

Best reaction ever!!! 

[wearedragoste]

 @marigoldvance replied to your post: Important notice

   I hope all is well and I’m very proud to see that you’re doing what you need to do for yourself 😊 let’s see what awesome things you’ve got coming our way!! 

@spinner33 replied to your post: Important notice

   *sends hugs* in case you need them    

Thank you so much, that’s really sweet!! Everything is very well, I think I’m just feeling the need to be more in the real world and not so much in fiction (although I still very much want to work on my book =) ). I do appreciate the hugs and support immensely, even though I’m sure of what I’m doing it’s still making me nervous. I followed you both and please feel free to drop by any time to chat! =)

[gatheringfiki]

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

Fili/Kili, G.

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

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

���

The snowy mountains of Gondor passed outside the window as the train rumbled through small towns and villages, all decked out for Yulemas. Sparkling lights and strings of fluffy garlands hung on the eaves of every platform the train pulled into.

Fili had been sitting quietly in the first-class carriage, his laptop open on the table, looking over a couple of remaining depositions when Kili had called. As soon as Fili had accepted the call, Kili’s troubled face had filled the screen, eyes narrowed, brows weighted. It hadn’t taken more than two words before Fili had mildly regretted answering.

                “He’s repainted.”

And now, there they were, Fili trying to ease Kili’s mind as Kili complained about the state of Erebor Hall.

                “It’s all green.” Kili grumbled. “Everything.”

Amused, Fili asked, “Everything?”

                “I’m not kidding, Fee. Everything. Even our bedrooms. Green.”

Fili chuckled, a minute shake of his head as he listened to Kili grouse. It was the 276th annual Yulemas ball, the 100th hosted at Erebor Hall. A tradition that spanned generations to signify the signing of the Treaty of Greenwood between the Elves and Dwarves that had, at the time, brought peace to Southern Middle-earth. Of course, now there were extremist factions of Orcs attempting to undo that peace, but the significance of the Treaty remained steadfast.

That year, it happened to be Uncle Thorin’s first year in charge of the ball. His father—Fili’s grandfather—had passed in Lithe, leaving the responsibility to wine and dine and woo the Elves entirely on Thorin’s shoulders. And Thorin…wasn’t known to be particularly festive. In fact, he’d usually be found glowering out of a corner at most events that involved any of the Elven delegations, sipping Elven wine like it was poison through a look twisted into insurmountable displeasure.

                “What color of green?” Fili asked, if only to get a rise out of Kili who was visibly at his wit’s end.

                “I don’t know,” Kili threw up his hands, dropped them, falling back in his chair on the other side of the screen, “It’s like being smothered by a fir tree.”

                “Or embraced,” Fili suggested. He was very reasonable, after all, and tried to see things from all sides. Across from him, he heard Tauriel snicker loud enough to cut through the noise-canceling effect of his earphones.

                “Certainly not!” Kili argued, and then, quite vehemently, “Strangled.”

                “You sound like Uncle.”

Kili leaned close to the camera, eyes sharp and twitchy, “I sound like a concerned nephew worried for his Uncle’s sanity.”

                “Certainly not,” Fili grinned, dimpled and with teeth, his gaze mischievous.

                “You’re the worst.” Kili decided, fishing for something beside him that Fili couldn’t see. “Look at what he wants us to wear!” And then he produced a swathe of dark, velvety cloth that shimmered green where it caught the light.

Fili’s expression slacked into shock, “Oh,” a long pause, “…No…” He recognized it as an old-fashioned cloak worn by his forefathers’ forefathers. Hundreds of years ago. Ceremonial and dreary and, “We can’t wear those. We’ll look like we’re in a cult!”

                “I tried to tell him that, but he insisted.” Kili rolled his eyes, reaching for something else. “And he wants us to pin these to them.” He held up a gold broach shaped like the Greenwood seal: The head of a stag with long, twisty antlers. Gifted, Fili knew, 200 years ago to Fili’s great-grandfather as a symbol of the persevering alliance with the Elves. There were definitely enough of those broaches to go around. Twice.

Fili winced. “Alright, you’ve made your point. Uncle’s gone mad.”

                “More than mad,” Kili corrected primly, “He’s frazzled.”

                “In his defense,” Fili began, see-sawing his head and readjusting in his seat, “This is Bilbo’s first ball at Erebor.” Bilbo being Uncle Thorin’s partner of several months. Since last Frery. “And the first year that Lord Thranduil will attend himself rather than send his son in his stead.”

                “Green, Fee.” Kili repeated before holding up and shaking the cloak, “With culty formalwear.”

Fili pressed his lips into a line to keep from laughing, attempting to respect his brother’s maudlin temper. “What does Balin have to say about all this?”

                “Balin decided to temporarily step down as Uncle’s counsel until after the holidays due to,” Kili lifted his other hand, finger quoting, “Mental distress.”

He couldn’t stop it this time. Fili threw his head back and laughed, earning a look of interest from Tauriel.

Once Fili recovered, a chime alerted him to another call. He gave Kili a grin, “It’s Uncle. I’m just going to add him to the call.”

                “Oh, God, please don’t.”

But it was too late, Fili had already answered. Thorin’s face—or most of it, anyway—appeared on the screen, his nose and right eye practically pressed to the camera.

                “Fili? Where are you?” Thorin questioned, clearly on the move. “Is the train almost in?”

                “Not until four-thirty,” Fili replied, doing everything in his power not to dissolve into another fit of laughter. “Uncle, maybe just…” He gestured, “Pull the phone away from your face.”

                “What?” Thorin squinted into the camera and then muttered to himself, “Bloody thing.” He distanced the phone enough for Fili to see Thorin’s face properly as well as a bit of the room he was in. Which included Kili’s back and the laptop he sat in front of, the cloak pooled on the floor and a stack of boxes the height of a large Man that likely held within them the broaches Thorin wanted every Dwarf attending to wear.

The room was, indeed, painted a deep emerald green, the color brilliant against oak and brass accents. Fili also noticed ancient, ceremonial swords had been hung between portraits of kings and queens, Elven and Dwarven alike.

                “Where did we get those?” Fili peered over Thorin’s shoulder though he was speaking to Kili out of the corner of his mouth. He clarified, “The Elvish ones.”

                “I think we might’ve stolen them. Dwalin hasn’t looked me in the eye since they were installed.” Kili’s head dropped into his hands.

Fili grimaced, “Recently?”

Kili lifted his head and fell back in his seat, “Not recently, but likely before the end of the Battle of Blue Frost Steppe.”

Thorin piped up, scoffing “Bah, they won’t remember them, surely.”

Fili watched Kili turn around, both in Kili’s screen and in Thorin’s, glaring as he scolded, “Oh, no, of course they won’t. It’s not like any of the thousand-year-old, immortal Elves won’t recognize their own faces painted in the cultural treasures nabbed from them by our great-great-grandad who they still hate.”

                “Exactly.” Thorin nods solemnly.

Kili leaned toward his camera and gave Fili a pointed look, “We’re all going to die tonight.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, “And he’ll be responsible. I hope you’ve written your will, Fee.”

Fili snorted at Kili’s dramatics and turned to address Thorin, “We’ll tell the Elves that, upon finding what we understand to be precious artifacts to Greenwood, we wish to return them. A show of goodwill as we move forward into a new era of union between the Dwarves and Elves.”

Thorin seemed to debate Fili’s proposal, miserable and severe. After a few beats, he reluctantly declared, “Fine,” as if it was pulled from the depths of his conscience.

                “I’m not dying for you!” Kili called over his shoulder toward Thorin.

Turning his head, Thorin returned, “I agreed to what Fili said, didn’t I?”

                “We’ll need to do something for the Men, in that case,” Kili said when he brought his attention back to Fili. “Can’t have anyone left out.”

                “Right, we should call the Daleïn Museum of Fine Arts and ask if they’re willing to loan us something. Perhaps that chess set Rivendell offered Lady Griselde for her Centariath.”

Kili grabbed a pen and opened his notebook to scribble down Fili’s suggestion; understood that he’d have to be the one to make the call and organize delivery as Fili was still in transit.

                “And the Fae.” Fili realized. “We likely won’t have to do anything too fancy.” It took a second for Fili to register the expression on Thorin’s face. Rather, the part of his face that Fili could see. “They were invited, right?”

No one said anything for long moments. Fili stared at Thorin while Kili slowly turned to do the same, brown eyes turning lethal.

                “Right. Uncle?” Kili asked through gritted teeth. “We would never forget the Fae after their support in rescuing Dwarven hostages from Mordor, would we?”

Abruptly, Thorin’s screen went black before it disappeared. Fili saw Thorin march out of the room over Kili’s shoulder, close the door with a loud creak and snick, and then heard footsteps scampering down the hall toward what Fili knew was the library cum Thorin’s home office.

Kili pressed his thumb and forefinger into his sockets, grumbling, “If we manage not to insult anyone tonight, I’m taking the next forty years off and moving to Khand.”

                “Mm, the meditation temples there are the most relaxing in all of Arda,” Fili agreed, wondering if he had enough PTO to follow his brother.

                “Fuck a meditation retreat,” Kili growled, “I’m joining one of the nomadic horse tribes and I’m going to learn to read coffee grounds and constellations and have one of their old wise women show me how to curse idiot Uncles who paint everything green and forget entire embassies.”

Fili gave Kili a fond smile, “Right, so you’re going to abandon me?”

                “Absolutely not,” Kili replied and then said as if it were painfully obvious, “You’re coming with me.”

                “And who will take over the legal department while I’m gone?”

                “Tauriel could do it,” Kili flapped a hand, “She’s better than you are, anyway.”

With a deep laugh, Fili answered, “You’re such a twat.”

                “I’m strategic,” Kili countered, “We should cut and run before war is declared over Yulemas lamb.”

                “Lamb? That’s a choice. We couldn’t get goose?”

Kili groaned, “Bilbo doesn’t like goose. Can’t even stand the smell of it, according to Uncle.”

                “Lamb it is. The Fae aren’t going to love that.”

                “Probably why Uncle put off sending their invitations. Didn’t know how to explain the Fae’s blessed animal is on the menu.” A brief moment of silence on either end as Fili and Kili contemplated what a disaster the ball could be left in Thorin’s hands. Finally, Kili gave Fili a desperate look, voice pleading, “Can’t you just use a key and get here quicker? We don’t have time to waste and you’re the only one Uncle listens to.”

                “I can’t just use keys willy-nilly, Kee. The Fae entrusted me to use them wisely.”

                “This is wisely!” Kili insisted, “How much more wise can it get!? You’d be saving lives, Fee. Ours included! Or do you want to be outfitted for a military regalia? Because I sure as shit don’t.”

Fili cast his gaze to Tauriel over his laptop, silently asking permission to abandon her to travel to Erebor alone. She pretended to give it some thought, but quickly agreed, mouthing, go on then as she waved a delicate hand in dismissal. Fili nodded his head in thanks and then told Kili he’d see him soon, not giving Kili a chance to respond before Fili ended the call and turned his laptop toward Tauriel so she could finish reading through the depositions Fili had been working on.

Standing and buttoning his suit jacket, grabbing his coat and weekend luggage, Fili gave Tauriel a wink and then trotted toward the back of the first-class carriage to ask an attendant where he might have found a door with a keyhole.

The attendant smiled politely, “In the next car,” she instructed, “Right beside the women’s toilets.”

                “Thank you,” Fili bowed his head and then made his way through to the next car, all the way to the end where the women’s toilets were located. He recognized the Travelers’ door immediately, pretty florals leafed in gold all along the doorframe. The door itself was dry-brushed in a green similar to the color Thorin had every room in Erebor Hall painted and Fili snickered, shaking his head.

He produced a large key ring jingling with a dozen massive, antique skeleton keys from the front pocket of his travel bag and flipped through them until he found the right one, slotting it in the keyhole without resistance. He turned it easily, heard the telltale click of the lock unlatching, and waited for the transition to happen. A bright light filtered through the cracks between the door and its frame though it dimmed quickly. As soon as it disappeared, Fili returned the keyring to his bag and pressed down on the handle, opening the door to reveal his childhood bedroom. A lot greener than it had been when he’d last seen it.

He stepped through the door, shut it behind him, and deposited his bag and coat on his old bed. The room smelt like fresh paint and pine, a smell that persisted when he exited into the hallway. He gracefully swaggered down the hall toward the staircase, passing a suit of Dwarven armor on his way that clanked as it shifted. Pausing, Fili inspected the armor with a smile.

                “Hello?” He said, lifting the visor to see who was inside.

Bofur heaved a sigh of relief, “Thank Mahal it’s you, Fili.” He clamored down from the pedestal. “I’ve been hiding in here for ages. Your uncle’s gone—”

                “Mad,” Fili finished, entertained.

Bofur removed the helmet and tucked it under his arm, huffed a breath to blow his matted fringe out of his eyes, “He’s frazzled, Fili, it’s much worse.”

                “So I’ve heard.” Fili sad as he studied Bofur, “Have you been in there all day?”

                “Four days!” Bofur said, “Don’t ask.”

Fili’s face pinched, “I don’t think I will…”

Bofur clinked and clanged as he followed Fili to the grand staircase, each metallic step louder than the last as they descended to the main hall. Kili greeted Fili at the bottom, bundling him into a tight hug that restricted Fili’s arms at the elbows. Hoisting Fili off his feet, Kili carried him rather unceremoniously into the sitting room where he’d been during his conversation with Fili. There, he placed Fili on his feet and then swept his arms out to indicate the space and all the changes that had been made for the Yulemas ball.

                “Look at the state of this place!” Kili hissed, pointed at everything in quick succession.

Fili glanced around, a bubble of laughter shaking through his dense Dwarven bones as he took in the large tree that tilted sideways under the weight of ill-strung ornaments, all strangely placed on one side. The presents under it were decorated in bows to cover as many gaps and tears in the wrapping as possible, though not concealing all of them, and the tree skirt was…

                “Is that a bath towel?” Fili blinked in surprise.

                “That’s several bath towels.” Kili groaned, “I don’t think he noticed. He just saw the seasonal embroidery and assumed.”

                “Frazzled,” Bofur sighed from behind them.

                “Frazzled.” Kili and Fili agreed in unison.

A short moment of thought later, Fili squared his shoulders, “Give me twenty minutes,” and swept out of the room, marching with purpose toward Thorin’s office. He entered without knocking, his gaze traveling across the shelves along the walls to the colossal desk in the center of the room. His uncle was nowhere to be found. Until, that was, Fili heard something that sounded distinctly liked crinkling paper coming from the corner to his right.

Fili’s jaw dropped.

                “Thank fuck you’re hear,” Thorin’s muffled voice rose from beneath a Dwarf-shaped pile of colorful Yulemas wrapping, sellotaped at all the seams, a silver bow where the top of Thorin’s head was beneath it.

                “Uncle?” Fili asked, making a monumental effort not to laugh, “I just wondered where we were with the invitations to the Fae. I heard you’d requested the caterers serve lamb.”

The pile of paper gestured toward Thorin’s desk, “I can’t figure out the tubes.” Thorin said, either defeated or frustrated, Fili couldn’t tell without seeing Thorin’s face.

Spurred into action, Fili went to the desk, promptly took a seat and began to shuffle through the invitations. He reread, rewrote and then re-enveloped every single one, spending thirty minutes waxing and stamping the Durin seal on the closures before sorting them into neat piles. Once the pneumatic tubes were set to the correct destinations, he placed each pile accordingly into the carriers and off they went.

During that time, Thorin had managed to free his arms and legs and hunkered down to continue clumsily wrapping empty boxes to join the others under the tree in the sitting room. Fili stopped on his way out of Thorin’s office to snip little eyeholes into the paper covering Thorin’s face.

                “Tauriel will be here in a couple of hours,” Fili said, “I think she should be in charge of…all this.” He straightened as he looked over the pile of poorly wrapped presents, cringing. “In fact, you should probably relinquish the tape and retire altogether from gift wrapping. It is not your forte.”

                “I’m doing alright,” Thorin replied mildly.

                “You’re wearing a paper dress, Uncle, enough is enough.”

Thorin didn’t say anything for a beat before, “I think I look quite dashing.”

Fili laughed along merrily, “A sight to behold,” he concurred, heading out of the room. “I’m going to talk to the chef about Fae-friendly options, and we should slice the lamb before it’s served. I don’t believe they actually know what cooked lamb looks like if it’s already cut, so we might get away with it. We just have to make sure they don’t eat any.”

                “Good thinking,” Thorin said, giving a thumbs up when he realized Fili couldn’t see his face.

The following afternoon, the tree was upright; the parcels were wrapped with sharp corners and fancy ribbons; the chess set had been procured from the Daleïan Museum; Bofur had come out of the suit of armor; and the eerie, cult-like cloaks had been exchanged for smart, polished three-piece suits for the Dwarvish men and elegant gowns for the Dwarvish women, all in emerald green with gold threading to complement the décor.

Balin had returned, accompanied by the Elvish delegation, his beard just as festive as the other Dwarves who’d glittered and adorned theirs in gold, though he’d also looped tiny Elvish-esque baubles into his. Purchased, he said later as he and Fili commiserated over Mannish mulled wine, from a craftswoman in Rohan where he’d fled when Thorin began to show signs of—

                “Downright senility,” Balin told Fili. “He’d gone mad!”

Fili chuckled, “Yes, I witnessed some of it for myself.”

                “I swear, he should know better than to undertake organizing parties,” Balin remarked, nodding his head in the direction of the tree where Fili caught Thorin standing, glowering over his glass of Skin-changer mead at all the foreign attendees. Especially Thranduil who was in deep conversation with Thorin’s partner, Bilbo, discussing something Bilbo apparently thought was hilarious.

Probably about Uncle, then, Fili mused.

                “Yes,” Kili’s voice said from behind Fili just before Fili felt an arm band around his waist, “Thank every deity in existence that Fili got here when he did, or we’d be tits deep in battle strategy and blood.”

                “Don’t be dramatic, Kee,” Fili chided, giving Kili a cheerful grin, “We would’ve been able to trade Uncle Thorin as a sacrifice for peace.”

                “I can hear you!” Thorin shot out over the party, sidling further into the tree’s shadow when heads turned to look at him.

Kili pressed a kiss to Fili’s temple. “You’re a hero,” He praised, taking Fili’s glass and taking a deep drink, “and now we’re going to celebrate your victory by getting blackout drunk and dancing until our feet fall off.”

Fili raised an eyebrow at Kili, “Are we, now?”

Kili snorted and acquiesced, “Fine, I’m going to get blackout drunk and dance until my feet fall off. Or until you carry me to bed. Whichever comes first.”

                “That sounds more likely,” Fili acknowledged with a hearty laugh, taking Kili by the hand and dragging him onto the dancefloor.

-*-

Lithe = June

Frery = January

[legolaslovely]

BAHAHAHHAAAA

Mirkwood prison

[marigoldvance]

2020

A Year in Review

words published: 147 946 (AO3), 7378 (tumblr exclusive), 64 764 (cuts/edits/abandoned)

favorite ‘verse: Apprentice

favorite project: Harlequin & Mafia AU

under review for rewrite: The Gilded Wolf (A/B/O Witcher AU)

most (personally) anticipated upcoming project: The DarkHawk Domestics AU 

least favorite upload: More to Love (removed from AO3 until further notice)

goal for 2021: finish open series’ (🙄); more contributions to the Reader Insert nook of our fandom (because i have a lot of fun with those!) & artwork (not exclusively collages/photosets). 

note: 

thank you everyone who challenged and supported me, who shared their interest in my creations, and who introduced me to vast worlds of their own imagination. thank you to my friends, my readers, the authors i stalk relentlessly, and everyone in between. this fandom/community means a whole helluva lot to me, more than i’ll ever be able to coherently express, and everyone in it deserves a pat on the back for getting through Murder Year 2020! 

[i-am-still-bb]

HEARTS FOR EVERYONE INVOLVED!

Art for @marigoldvance​ Mafia-Verse (which you need to read if you haven’t already)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

(click for full size)