#the only other race you should have is dwarves

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

I've seen plenty of bonkers criticisms of Rings of Power, but this is certainly the most baffling so far.

Tolkien was never about the elves?

Tolkien?!

J.R.R. Tolkien?!

The guy who wrote The Silmarillion?!

That Tolkien?!

[1411411989]

dragon age is so funny because you can feel the games, especially after 2, struggling to be like "only modern multicultural liberal attitudes can point the way forward to a society that is healed, peaceful, and advances the dignity and welfare of all people" and it's like, okay, but you guys made the game where the different races all have literally different origins.

"racism is bad. most of our villains are racial supremacists of one type or another. also, humans and elves and dwarves and qunari are biologically, metaphysically, and ontologically distinct. racial intermixing literally reduces the number of elves and threatens elvish society and heritage in the long run. qunari are implied to be the way they are in part because of genetic engineering." like do you guys fucking hear yourselves? you made a racist game, dipshits. it's wholly unsurprising that veilguard relegates a lot of its coverage of race to small bits of the banter and the codex, because engaging in good faith with race in the dragon age setting without accidentally saying something racist is hard. because they baked the racism into the worldbuilding.

and that's before we even get to the genetic determinism nightmare that is magic in thedas

[spxllcxstxr]

Being a Maia Witch and in the Fellowship • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hi, if you're taking requests, can I get headcanons for the Fellowship? The reader is a Maia witch and is sort of a colleague of Gandalf's but he's also a bit of a mentor. Just interested to see how you think everyone would interact with the reader :) thank you so much and I hope you stay safe, happy, and healthy — anon

Warnings: reader is one of the blue wizards, mostly gender neutral though you are called a witch, mix of book and movie canon

A.N: Thank you so much for your kind words! I hope you enjoy these hcs, I really enjoy writing about the fellowship!

•

Since stepping foot on Middle Earth you had always been a wanderer

Of course you had spent time with the other Maiar; though you had your own specialized magic, Gandalf mentored you a lot

You always felt closer to Radagast the Brown; he cared deeply about nature and the living world that you lived in

You had been known to almost vanish for years at a time, exploring some deep cavern or somewhere high in mountains, it was always on a whim

You were elusive--all the races of Middle Earth had their own names and tall tales about you

But as the Age of the Elves starts to dwindle you start to ease down on the amount of adventures you have

Until your dear old friend Gandalf the Grey shows up on your doorstep out of breath with and almost crazed look in his eyes

A hobbit has the One Ring

So much for not traveling

You join the Fellowship at the Council of Elrond--no one opposes having another magical being in their midst

You try to get to know the other members better, it has been some time since you have interacted with people so your communication skills are a little rusty

Gandalf trusts you, of course, he is thrilled you have agreed to join them

He confides in you about the quest and the situation; things he would not tell the others

You two understand each other in a way no one else in the Fellowship can

The two of you, to fill the time, talk about your own travels and the history of Middle Earth

"You have been gone for too long, (Y/n), Middle Earth has suffered in your absence."

"Oh Gandalf, I needed to see everything before it was too late."

Boromir is a little wary of you, in Gondor they believe your presence is a bad omen since you do not show yourself too frequently near Minas Tirith

He warms up to you while travelling to the Mines of Moria because you and Gandalf exerted so much power trying to save them

"You are not the ill portent my father has talked about, witch. Why did you avoid Minas Tirith for so long?"

Aragorn has probably seen glimpses of you throughout his life and because of his travels he has heard many stories about you

Honestly he's very intrigued and asks many questions about what you have seen

He really trusts you almost immediately, you were welcomed in Rivendell, showing that Elrond trusted you

In Lothlorien Galadriel also holds you in high esteem, she's surprised you're in the Fellowship; not because you do not care about the fate of Middle Earth, but because you never tend to stay in one place long

"You must guide me, (Y/n). With Gandalf lost...I cannot proceed without council..."

Legolas is all over you--endless questions about the world and the time that has passed, but in like a subdued manner

He trusts you, though in recent years your reputation has been tarnished by his father, who is of the thought that you and the other wizards should have helped them fight against the spiders. He believes the Greenwood fell to darkness due to the negligence of the wizards

"Do you believe the Greenwood will be cured after we destroy the Ring, (Y/n)? I have missed my home..."

Gimli goes through the motions of meeting a witch only a handful of people have encountered in your lifetime

He's the one that discovered your sense of humor and loves joking with you

You ask him about recent dwarven culture, dwarves are wary of outsiders so it has been a while since you have seen their tools and creations

"Just you wait, lass, what we have created is unlike anything you have ever seen!"

Merry is genuinely delighted that you joined them

He feels a lot safer with two wizards, even if you’re not that experienced with fighting

Merry trusts your judgement and certainly looks for your approval just like he does with Gandalf

(Also please show him magic he loves Gandalf’s fireworks and he wants to see what else magic can do since Gandalf doesn’t really show anyone that stuff)

“Can you make Boromir’s shield disappear, (Y/n)? Or perhaps make Legolas’ hair a different color?”

Pippin is like Merry on crack

He wants to know every little detail about everything but at the same time he is chewing your ear off

Honestly he’s probably telling you his life story too

He enjoys your company, like Merry he feels a lot more secure in this quest and he also comes to see you as a friend

Wants to see your magic, even if you just create sparks at your fingertips

Probably your number one fan

“Can I see your staff (Y/n)? I promise not to use it to singe Gandalf’s beard!”

Sam is very shy around you and is very protective of Frodo

Sure Gandalf trusts you, but you’ve only ever been a fable in the Shire

He knows nothing about you, what have you been doing this entire time?

He does warm up to you, though, once you prove to him that you are truly there to help them succeed

Learns a lot about herbs from you, whether they be for cooking or medicine

“Tell me about the Elves, (Y/n). You must know so much about them. Rivendell was so beautiful…”

Frodo is highly suspicious of you for quite a while

It is mostly because he is afraid of the Ring and its influence

He doesn’t know you like he knows Gandalf so it takes him a bit to trust you

Bilbo has only told him rumors of you

It isn’t until Gandalf dies that he really starts looking to you for guidance

He takes to you mostly at night when everyone is asleep because he is away from prying eyes

“This quest leads me to my death, doesn’t it witch? I do not know how to even begin to understand that…”

Overall you guys learn to bond and grow together throughout the quest

You have never been so happy to be around people despite the circumstances, and you start to understand why Gandalf has always been so involved with the people of Middle Earth

•

[tarisbackyard]

Here's how to write an authentic Grimm style fairytale, brought to you by a Certified German TM:

Forget everything Disney movies taught you, besides maybe Snowwhite, Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty. But even those are on thin fucking ice. Also ignore modern fantasy literature conventions, especially Dungeons & Dragons type stuff.

Ideally only the protagonist or none of the characters ought to have names. And the names should either be really fucking ordinary, or some kind of epithet. Like, either that's a Franz or a Bramblesock, cause when Bramblesock was a child he lost a sock in a shrub of brambles. Everyone else is either the king, the grandma, or the carpenter.

The common types of protagonist: Regular working class guy who cons his way into a life of riches, poor downtrodden peasant who through hardworking kindness is granted salvation (usually via gaining riches), too pure too good for this world princess who can't catch a fucking break, too nasty too bratty for this world princess who gets taught a lesson in humility.

The characters are generally very one note and the only kind of character growth they can experience boils down to "maybe I shouldn't have been a dick, huh?"

The location is either as vague as possible or super fucking specific for no reason; either the story takes place literally nowhere or in the town of Buxtehude.

Animals and inanimate objects that can talk for no apparent reason and no one bats an eye at are always a great addition.

If you want to add any fantasy races, use giants (large, dumb brutes), dwarves (angry little guys who live in the wilderness and get really angry if you touch their beards), or gnomes (mischievous house spirits who might be helpful but watch out!), but never more than one of these. Fairies are rare and usually the "tall beautiful wise woman" type, not the small annoying pixie type. Dragons are very pointedly no-where to be found, those distinctly belong in sagas, which are their own distinct type of literature.

Weird moral of the story that either boils down to "be smarter than all the other fuckers", "good things happen to good people, bad things happen to bad people", or "don't upset the supernatural".

Random tidbits of gore that no one bats an eye at.

Witches eat children, if a mother gets more than single line dedicated to her she's evil, fathers are spineless and/or assholes who either die or come around in the end.

Ugly means evil, pretty means good. Except when it doesn't.

Optional: Repeated rhyming phrases and numbers. Seventh son of a seventh son kinda stuff. The numbers 3, 7, 12, and 13 in particular.

Ideally a 19th century scholar should be able to read some clumsy Germanic pagan wishful thinking into the story, no matter how big and obvious the Christian overtones are.

Optional: Start the story with "Once upon a time" and end it with "And if they didn't die, then they are still alive today."

[fumifooms]

do you happen to have that page that talks about the beauty standards of each race?

Yeah sure. While scavenging pics for this I found this neat reddit compilation & chart & theory talk too. I had um, way more to say than I anticipated (I know you only wanted the one page. I have nothing to say for myself. Like most topics in Dunmeshi things snowball because they’re so interconnected. Mercy…) so, many races and observations are only mentioned near the bottom.

Beauty standards and race in Dungeon Meshi

Not pictured there’s also how elven society is harsh on visibly disabled people, and how the demon took away Mithrun’s silver eyes and ears to take away his pride. There’s also how Senshi might have fit in with the orcs more easily because of the dwarven wide body shape, and how they tend to have more body hair too I suppose. In the extra on orcs we see Senshi living with the orcs and he gets judged because of the hierarchy rather than his looks.

What is fashionable also differs from culture to culture, and there’s how tattoos only seem common with elves, though dwarves and others do also sometimes have some. They seem to not raise much brows, which makes sense since for many essentially they’re for professional (magical) purposes especially with elves. Gender roles also differ in type and importance, but generally they are similar to irl ones for the races we see. Elven society seems to be the least gendered, which would be an unsurprising logical outcome of having lesser sexual dimorphism aka they look more androgynous. Comparing fashions and gender roles and how they affect beauty standards would be a whole other compilation and conversation. Kui has great worldbuilding partially because she’s got such a good grasp on sociopolitics and geopolitics. History affects cultures and beauty standards greatly. Kui’s oneshot Distant Utopia was very eye opening on her way to worldbuild and the consideration she gives these things, I do really recommend reading it.

Out of the big 5, we know the least about gnomes, but their sheet does say both culture and region are similar to dwarves’ and they end up being confused together often, so we can imagine the beauty standards are similar to dwarves’ as well.

I wanted to touch on this in a post eventually, but how one daydream hour page said half-foots tended to be curvaceous like in the artwork below puzzled me for a long time, all the half-foot characters we see during canon are rather slender and lanky after all, Chil’s succubi also being more curvy than plump. Economics are for sure a factor in that I imagine, the half-foots characters we see are all implied to be some flavor of poor or malnourished, as are half-foots depicted as empoverished oppressed minorities in general. Even comparing the artwork with the half-foot sheet’s depicted average half-foot, the ones on the left seem bigger. Wouldn’t it make sense though, if unlike dwarves half-foots don’t have similar naturally wide bodies, yet due to idolizing dwarves they work towards having a similar body shape/type to emulate them?

It’s said half-foots tend to stick to pretty ethnically homogeneous regions (aka half-foots-only communities) unless they move to the big city with ambition to try and make it big (like Chilchuck and his wife & kids did), and that’s interesting imo because then that would mean that in a ton of half-foot communities, they rarely see or interact with dwarves whom they try to emulate. Of course, one thing about beauty standards is that when they get adopted, at one point it stops being "this is how dwarves look and so this is how half-foots should look" and just becomes "this is how half-foots should look", most people feel as though beauty standards aren’t learned but innate, so I figure the half-foots wouldn’t have any problem still seeking dwarvish traits when there are no dwarves around.

There’s also stuff you can glean here and there if you want to extrapolate more. Like how in the race swap artworks, Mickbell is only smiling in the dwarf portrait, and Rin’s elven portrait looks very close to her elven one- Rin who is stated to be beautiful in her profile blurb. Benichidori’s extra does teach us tallmen can definitely have harsh beauty standards, but also since the text portrays her as very dysmorphic that’s likely reflected in her thoughts to a much more intense degree than is common, not an accurate strict baseline to go off. Ah, Kabru’s blue eyes are also why he and his mother lived a rough life in Kabru’s hometown, but that seems to be regional. Good post here on the topic of Kabru’s blue eyes and ties to irl history. There’s a lot to be said about Kabru being a man that in many ways is close to elven beauty standards, and how that might have affected or been affected by his upbringing with elves + his persona as someone that can effortlessly charm most people. Marcille’s section here in this essay also goes into Marcille’s struggles to fit in with the ideal image of an elf.

Looking human

Also notable are beastkins and demihumans: Demihumans are all dehumanized which makes people treat them worse. So if you differ from the visual idea of "human" (an in-world subjective categorization just as much as demihuman is) most people do judge you negatively. Elves and dwarves get to fight about which type of human is considered the prettiest, but demihumans are below tallmen and half-foots, they are considered as simply below the beauty contest, incompatible with it.

Onis are perhaps the demihuman people we know of with the least cultural influence on the dunmeshi world, and with the least intensely different appearance than other demihumans—they seem to be technically categorized as human to people not from the eastern archipelago?— but even them are treated as lesser than human, treated as beasts to slain for reputation points or useful strength to have around and command. It’s said their "magnificient horns" and fangs are often shaven off when the oni lives in tallman towns, so you could easily make the argument that onis are denied the right to have their own beauty standards, having to conform to other people’s and going through mutilation to take away features they might otherwise have taken pride in. Inutade was bought by the Nakamotos from a dangerous sumo fighting ring that got one of Inutade’s tooth broken on her first and only fight, and kept as a low ranking servant ever since. Remember when I said different fashions existed in dunmeshi and how those could also affect beauty standards? Like the elves, if you look at the portraits pages which include a lot of characters that aren’t in the story you can see distinct cultures within the same races, for example one young elf is bald which is in sharp contrast with the usual elven long luscious hairstyles, and that’s especially true for onis I think. Maybe not only from different regions but different eras as well… They have a bit of population in the very north of the western continent, so I like to think some of the ogres live in very cold, maybe even subarctic or arctic conditions. The point I’m getting at here is that within a race, culture/ethnicity like with Kabru will also influence them it isn’t just tallmen as a whole, different communities will have differing beauty standards. The oni history blurb and third row first collumn portrait remind me of Mongolia (which historically was a lot of different nomadic communities with different cultural identities as well. Something something, the oni empire experienced a decline and then tallmen overpowered them, and now they’re governed and split apart by stronger social classes & slavers and the richness of culture was hurt for it especially if they have no real community left of their own), but obviously many of them are dressed and look rather japanese, makes sense considering living in/close to Wa, and first row second collumn portrait reminds me of ainus which again would be logical considering geographical placement, though I’m far from an expert. Interestingly, ainus are indigenous people both in Japan and Russia- Perhaps the northern western continent ogres are meant to be closer to Russia than Canada like I imagined? Ok tangent over.

The kobold sheet says they’re especially sought after as slaves because they’re "adorable", but locally in the western continent they’re repeatedly said to be seen more as ferocious and dangerous. The dehumanization is most apparent in the first comic below. The language barrier and conflicts no doubt worsen this by a lot, but I think it’d be hard to deny that their canine appearance makes the dehumanization worse. "They’re ferocious beasts, they’re demihumans, they can’t be communicated with". Most characters in Dungeon Meshi’s world are desensitized to slavery and most characters are prejudiced one way or another. Point being, kobolds are fully removed from human beauty standards, but no doubt for kobolds, other kobolds are more beautiful than humans are. They’re assumed to be an uncivilized bunch, but just like any other people they like to adorn themselves with nice clothes and jewelry and keep themselves clean and groomed; they too take care of their appearance and take pride in it.

And the orcs! This one we have the most contact with in canon, with not only there being foreigner characters from the ethnicity or hearsay of their homelands and culture but full on contact with a community. We get to see up close what they’re like and what they think, and of course in turn they’re our introduction to how demihumans are harshly looked down upon and seen as inferior, less human and thus less worth valuing and less dignified. It’s text that orcs are ugly to most humans and humans are ugly to most orcs. Since I judged they didn’t need accompanying explanation the pictures showing this are in the pictures dump at the top.

God forbid you sell vegetables to orcs my god- but then again they do basically mandate adventurers to kill any orcs they come across so yeah the world isn’t above that even a little bit.

So yes, my main point here is simply that orcs are yet another evidence of the physical ideal of "human" being an important beauty standard for human societies globally.

Izutsumi is our glimpse at how beastkins are treated in the world, and in Wa at least that’s ending up being caged and mistreated as part of a freak show. Izutsumi hates her appearance and wishes she could leave the feline part of herself behind to only be human. Interestingly, not that we have a lot of info on them so this is very much a take with a grain of salt situation, but there seems to be less stigma around artificial beastmen, those who can shapeshift at will. The main difference is of course appearance, that most of the time they simply look like average tattooed humans. Artificially creating humans is an illegal practice, and no doubt it’s not well regarded, but being able to hide that makes them less likely to be discriminated at any moment, or even just discriminated less intensely. Again, looking human is important, not only for belonging but for safety’s sake. Beauty standards rule the world with harsh hands.

Mermaids and fishmen

Ok we’re done now right? Right-! But wait… Wait…! Mermaids and fishmen are said to be demihumans too, special separate cases to the main three demihuman species however, which is also represented by how mermaids and fishmen both are in the Adventurer’s Bible chapter Monsters meanwhile ogres, kobolds and orcs are in the chapter World. They’re an interesting topic because they directly tackle this topic, not only in a meta way for the readers but also making characters themselves struggle to quantify their humanity with the goal of knowing wether they should be eaten or not, especially Chilchuck. Chilchuck’s "is it really just a matter of feelings?" mini arc.

The party asking themselves "Should we eat this?" is very common, and often they end up playing a little loose on morality, like eating the red dragon’s meat despite it having digested Falin. Not unsimilarly Marcille freaks out a little over the vegetables they harvested having been grown with fertilizer, aka largely human poo. Half of the motivation of "should we eat this perhaps sentient creature" is out of consideration and compassion, but more strongly and more often, the characters struggle with a sense of taboo at eating something too closely related to humans. Even, feel uncomfortable because of the deepseated impression that eating it would dirty them in some way. Cannibalism is an interesting and relevant topic in many ways, but what I want to mention is how there’s the more or less universal belief that committing cannibalism inherently taints you as a person and turns you more monstrous, morally but also literally depending on some myths such as w*ndigos and onis in some cases, like in Touge Oni. Marcille and Izutsumi both express a fear of eating monsters turning them monstrous. Maybe this is part of what Laios was hoping for, honestly. There are two fears here, if eating a demihuman monster constitutes as cannibalism or not, and so, will eating it taint you because it’s a human, or will eating it taint you because it’s a monster? You are what you eat, until it’s a little too literal. You morally are the means by which you get your food, and you physically are the result of your nutrition. Dungeon meshi manages to mix an exploration of humanity with the theme of food because our relationship to food is very deep and complex, psychological as much as physiological.

In the end, the characters sort of shrug and accept that they’ll never quite understand the world of mermaids and fishmen and how they operate, and what that means about them. Laios is the one always challenging these notions other characters take for granted, it’s not obvious to Laios why people are softer on mammals than other animals and plants, it’s not obvious to Laios why people would be afraid of eating a monster just because it’s a monster, it’s not obvious to Laios why some food is gross to Marcille but not fish testicles, it’s not obvious to Laios why you should immediately regard orcs and kobolds badly.

"Cows are probably closer to humans [aka closer to being human] than fishmen, though they’re clearly intelligent", dehumanization to lessen empathy towards them to be able to eat them. Meanwhile, mermaids seemingly have a less noticeable "civilization" or intelligence, they hunt in groups like fishmen, but they don’t use tools and such, they feel more primal and similarly instinct driven, and yet… Do they attract sympathy more? Mammals, humans, is it because of their nature or because of their appearance?

Both the nature and appearance of fish are ones people don’t typically sympathize with. "Fish don’t feel pain", "goldfish only have 5 seconds of memory", "it’s okay to keep fish in completely empty bowls too small for them until they die from it", so many lies and misconceptions exist that make people less considerate of them. The average lifespan of a goldfish is 10-15 years, the record is 43, but they’re not seen as lives that really matter, so a lot of goldfish die in a few weeks of bad aquarium conditions. There’s a lot of research on animals evolving to look cute and appealing to make some predators want to kill them less and parents want to care for them more, including humans. First good google research result gave me this credible short article on the topic. In Chilchuck’s weighing wether a fishman is far enough from being human or not to eat, "face is 100% fish" is his biggest argument for it being more acceptable. The face, the most important thing for empathy and recognition. The face, the decapitated fishman one that falls into his hands next chapter.

To quote @room-surprise: "Chilchuck can't explain why it's wrong to eat the merpeople, even though it's NOT complicated. But the problem is Chilchuck would have to accept and acknowledge that the merpeople might be people? And that's outside of the worldview he passively believes, so he can't just say that, because he doesn't think that's true. But that IS why he "feels" it's wrong. And it's all you'd need to say for Laios to understand! But it would require acknowledging that maybe the way they're treating and talking about the merpeople is wrong."

The idea of Chil not being able to grapple with how maybe some monsters are more humans than they seem, him who had been an advocate of half-foots rights, half-foots who get undermined and treated as inconsequential sacrifices… Grappling with how he could relate to the merpeople’s situation almost, and pulling away because it’s so existentially horrifying. I do not want to see myself into an hostile fish-faced warrior I can’t communicate with. In a way this also relates to Chilchuck being the only party member who doesn’t see Izutsumi as a cat in the relationship chart, the only one to treat her with full human dignity. He knows the struggle to be taken seriously, he knows being infantilized and he knows what it’s like to be treated as less than human.

Below, you will see Chilchuck draws the line of where they become not okay to eat as when "they already look like mermaids". Above, there’s speculation that the algae hair is partly to mimic "the mermaids’ beautiful female form". Is it because mermaids are their enemies and the ambiguity might give them extra seconds to attack or flee? Is it to trick adventurers instead? It’s striking to me that this is what works, with the adventurers. Sure the fishmen are intelligent, but explicitly here, what makes them no longer acceptable prey to Chilchuck is that they look close enough to a mermaid, close enough to human. Mermaids who of course themselves have this form to entice and seduce and charm the adventurers they prey on. Chilchuck considers the intelligence due to the tridents, but most of his internal debate centers around their appearance, and the image of a fishman skewered sickens him. The power of mimicry… Mimic being a beautiful human woman. Mimic being cute, babies being wired to make us feel protective and softened. Half-foots, sometimes pretending to be children for scams or help or avoiding trouble.

The mermaids are only concerned by their differences and not their similarities, and have no trouble treating the fishmen as food rather than peers. To an outside perspective like us, the audience, all these categorization of "more human" and "less human" between onis and orcs and elves and tallmen etc seem stupid and unfounded, but to the people living in Dungeon Meshi’s world, elves may as well be mermaids while onis are fishmen, not alike at all, unworthy of empathy and thus fine to eat.

Ultimately, Dungeon Meshi promotes unity. It’s about seeking to understand the unknown and the misunderstood, the dehumanized and the inhuman. It shows the good that comes from seeking to understand what you do not, even when that’s one another.

[tench]

Veilguard is such a weird game.

It's not a Dragon age game, it's bately a role playing game. It's an ok action. Even though it is the most stable AAA release it is still just a bunch of barely tied together stuff in a trench coat.

The writing (insultingly dumbed down and absolutely incapable of taking itself seriously untill the last 1/6 of the game) is all over the place, the direction is nonexistent judging by the tonal shift from one quest to another. We can have very heart felt monologue about the fear of death sit right next to a conversation where a lot of things are told using one specific phrase (I really hope in a clumsy attempt at emphasis) repeated till these words lose any meaning to you.

There's also a problem of role-playing in this "rpg" and the Rook. None of your dialogue choices matter in terms of defining your character, no matter the option you choose, the general conversation will carry the upbeat silly tone. "Your backstory and class matter more than your race" works untill it doesn't, like when you are a dwarf but you are denied your own journey and realizations tied to the titans, and maybe it is not your journey to take yet you can't even try to be a part of it, even when Harding is actively reaching out to other dwarves to share this connection. It's also weirdly more interested in writing romance between npcs than for the main character (Lucanis comes to mind, it feels like the game is actively punishing you for pursuing him, you have to lose the whole shadow dragon faction, you won't get to hang out with Dorian and still you have bare minimum and he more interested in Neve anyway), that's extremely funny that this game is player-sexual yet completely player-aromantic. (And I miss the dai option where you can come up and kiss your LI whenever you feel like it).

I won't even touch on the weird and unnecessary sanitation of everything, like we can't allow people or factions to have negative traits whatsoever. And it's not "southern propaganda", it's "we are not engaging with complex topics for the sake of clear dichotomy between good us and evil overlords". Speaking of which

The whole plot.. The general idea of it is ok. You come to stop Solas, you make the situation go sideways, you have to work together to fix your mistakes and maybe learn to sympathize with the antagonist haunted by his own transgressions with the main theme being legacy and your relationship with your culture and the baggage it brings. But the journey is a complete disaster. Part of it works solely because the characters absolutely Refuse to make a plan and the other - because the main character has a blunt head trauma. Maybe it's related. Maybe it's all a mass hallucination. I may try to elaborate on how it's absolutely ridiculous how little the inquisition and the politics have any impact in this game yet somehow 8 people squatting in the Fade with no political affiliations are held responsible for providing for every faction they come across. I won't even try to make sense of it. It's the usual case of "the main character does everything".

The direction is not only absent in the writing. Some lines that are ok in text delivered in such a way you may think they were allowed only to use the very first take.

The music is absolutely forgettable. Also the odd riff during the dramatic reveal absolutely took me out because I thought I heard kazoo (but I bet Varric would love it).

The visuals are.. Ok. It's pretty on the first glance but the more you travel the more you realize that the general design of the locations are kinda lacking. They have this weird gradient that makes everything a little bit more unfocused and a bit washed out. There are also too many cases of the horisont just drowning in the fog. Air perspective is great and it suits locations like Necropolis, but I would argue that these establishing shots should be used for environmental storytelling in other places, with some focal points in the background, like during the final mission where you see the world absolutely drowning in the blight, devouring local statue of liberty. Or the dead Titan. Or the first shot of the Veil jumper forest (I forgot how it's called) where you see the ruins going into he sky. But because of the fog (or sometimes darkness) it feels like the game is more interested in cheating the optimisation than to hint on the bigger picture (like the chantry and the gallows buildings that you can see almost from all locations in DA2 or the andrastian/dread wolf imagery of inquisition)

So, in conclusion. Not the worst game I played, yet disappointing, even if we pretend it's not an installment of a beloved franchise that people were waiting for 10 years.

Ps. Also making such a game with nerfing all the lore only to nuke all the legacy locations is a choice I won't ever understand. It's like it is not for the fans and it's not for the new people but a secret third thing.

[teh-tj]

17 Reasons

1 Because the eagles would have been spotted by Sauron.

2 Controlling the eagles is very difficult and requires a great intellect and soul to accomplish. Gandalf was the only one like that, and still he had to find the eagles since you can’t simply tame them.

3 The eagles live mostly in the Misty Mountains, meaning the take off point would have been spotted by Sauron’s army.

4 Mount Doom is too hot for the eagles to fly directly above, it's also a volcano which emits toxic fumes.

5 Eagles are very smart and powerful creatures, they developed concepts like greed and language. The ring would have corrupted them after long exposure. Remember, the ring must be handled by a weak race who wouldn’t be corrupted by it, and Hobbits are the only intelligent race this applies to and even then it’s not 100%. (look at Gollum)

6 Eagles are massive, and since they’re strong enough to carry two full-grown human men we know they’re exceptionally strong. Because of this, they require a lot of energy, eg calories. If they rode the eagles from their natural habitat to Mount Doom they’d have to stop for food breaks constantly. IRL Eagles have to eat a pound (450 grams) of food a day, with the eagles themselves weighing around 14 lbs (6kg). Let’s say if the eagles weigh as much as a small horse, or 700lbs (318kg), that would mean they’d need 50 pounds of food a day.

7 To add to the last point, they’d be very prone to physical exhaustion. Due to their size and dietary needs we’d have to assume the eagles would need a lot of breaks in general.

8 If the eagles are shot down, a very real risk given the size of Sauron’s army, the fall would surely kill a significant portion of the Fellowship of the Rings. A risk Gandalf is too smart to take.

9 The eagles, weighing over 700lbs (318kg) would produce humongous poops, and birds don’t have sphincters. Imagine a dump the size of a large microwave falling on you from the sky, the fellowship is comprised of people too good to risk harming someone like that.

10 Since the eagles are so big they’d be too loud and noticeable. Sauron didn’t know about the plan to destroy the ring until it was too late. If he saw the eagles flying straight for Mount Doom he’d know something was up.

11 Gandalf isn’t the only being that can control the eagles, since eagles live so close to Mordor Sauron’s army would, upon realizing the Fellowship was coming, get their most powerful people to fly eagles to fight them. As cool as that sounds, I doubt the fellowship would want that.

12 The eagles might eat the hobbits, and perhaps the dwarves if they’re ballsy enough. Hobbits are around 3-4 feet (91-121cm) each and are said to be plump, so assuming they weigh as much as an overweight child they’re around 50lbs (23kg) which is around as much as the eagles should eat daily if you remember, and the dwarves and slightly taller and vastly more muscular so they’d be around 75lbs (34kg). That’s already a slight majority of the party which, in a pinch, would make for a great eagle feast.

13 If this feast were to happen all hope would be lost, and no other hobbit (almost the only race trusted with this mission) would even want to attempt to destroy the ring with Gandalf.

14 The eagles are too preoccupied with having their own lives. They might do Gandalf a favor and take a day to fly the fellowship to Mordor, but the journey would have taken days without the journey (the Shire and Mordor are practically on the opposite ends of Middle Earth) and I’m not sure most eagles would care enough to do that.

15 They needed to gather intelligence and protect Rohan from Sauron’s invasion along with destroying the ring.

16 If Gollum, the crazy mf, snuck onto one of the eagles somehow he would have destroyed the entire operation.

17 Tolkien himself confronted this. Tolkien said that the eagles are some of the most powerful creatures in Middle Earth and that any good writer would use them sparingly.

[meanbossart]

Hey! I was thinking of trying to write something for you about DU Drow but after a trying to gather stuff about him via your page I’m struggling to get something substantial for his personality- like I get it mostly (I think?) but it’s hard to put into words (which makes it easier for me) so if it’s not too much to ask; how would you explain DU Drows personality and maybe some of his values? - if you don’t mind! I love your art BTW!

Man, this is a tough ask and I MADE the guy. The fic is definitely the best place to see his personality in action, but it is also 20 chapters long so far - and I'm a fairly reasonable man.

Before I get to any descriptions, there's two important things to note: A) Overwhelmingly, his looks do not match his demeanor. and B) DU drow is extremely hedonistic in practice. He might claim to have certain beliefs or standards but hardly ever practices them.

Anyways, I present to you: The guy, more-or-less summarized to the best of my abilities.

BEHAVIOR: Purposefully standoffish. He wants to be noticed, but he does not want to be bothered. He's a little bit stiff with his body language and mostly makes use of head/neck gestures to assert his sentences and signal his level of interest. On that note, me makes it extremely obvious for the socially-versed individual to tell what he thinks of them - he hardly ever tries to hide if he's disinterested, annoyed, or having a laugh at your expense. He expresses emotion through his face a normal amount, but his default look is eerily bland, and subtle emotions might go unnoticed because of his eye-color and thin brows.

As it is with most people, the more uncomfortable he is with a situation the more stiff and inexpressive he becomes, and vice versa.

SPEECH: DU drow is very much well spoken, and simultaneously very blunt. He abides by most conversational formalities (definitely more formal than you would assume him to be) and basic etiquette. He will greet you and he will say please and thank you even if clearly not meaning it or feeling like you're unworthy of the gesture. Sometimes, he does it just to be patronizing.

With all of that in mind, he has a tendency to use violent turns of phrase and analogies to express himself, this applies to both negative and positive feelings. That being said he's aware of social norma and knows full well when things are or aren't appropriate, even if sometimes he chooses to ignore that and be weird anyway - usually with the purpose of intimidation.

He is the most earnest and sincere with very close friends (quite literally only Astarion and Shadowheart) and rather curt with everyone else unless you catch him in a particularly good mood. He's a little chummier with dwarves and duergar (he finds them amusing and fun to hang out with) and reserves a slight bit more tenderness and kindness for children and mothers, especially if they're elves. He's also fond of animals. He is dismissive of gnomes, goblins, bugbears, half/full orcs and hobgoblins. He despises githyanki and drow. He treats humans fairly respectfully but thinks they are a far lesser race than pretty much all others.

He has a very dark/offensive sense of humor and a tendency to make well crafted, but cruel jokes or quips about sensitive topics. This goes for everybody, including people he's on good terms with.

VALUES: Here's where things get tricky. DU drow is both a hypocrite and a unreliable narrator of his own story, not to mention deeply unfamiliar with his own inner-workings and feelings. Politically, he would be the guy who doesn't vote, doesn't want to pay taxes and dreams of living off the grid, who thinks everybody should pull themselves up by the bootstraps and that it's a dog-eats-dog world. He hates systems of government, authority figures, hierarchical structures and archaic customs. He believes it would a chaotic but functional world if people governed themselves.

In practice, he doesn't stand for anything and gladly overlooks injustices and things that don't align with his supposed values as long as they favor him, or just don't get in his way, and easily makes exceptions for things on a whim. He's indifferent to slavery; unless it's Astarion's. - He thinks humans are a worthless pet-race, except for his dearest and nearest friend, the half-elf Shadowheart. He thinks Half-orcs are intellectually inferior, but he will gladly be chummy with them if they amuse him and make for good-company during a night-out.

INNER WORLD AND INTIMACY: DU drow is extremely unfamiliar with his own emotions and very often comes up empty when he has to justify or explain anything that is based on feeling, while simultaneously operating on impulse and instinct for the vast majority of the time. He is subject to fear, resentment, and insecurity as much as anyone else, but carries a deep shame in acknowledging his own vulnerability at all. He is very intense when it comes to love, however, and shows no reluctance in expressing it through his words and actions towards the people he cares about. He does care for the levels of comfort of those dearest to him though, and doesn't bombard them with it unless the moment is right, or if overwhelmed into doing so. The same applies to physical affection - he's extremely comfortable with it, but cares deeply for respecting the boundaries of his loved ones. When it comes to strangers, he only touches them outside of combat if there is some kind of power-game at play.

A couple of other things that might be of note:

-He likes creature comforts, but is also fine with going without them and won't ever complain about having to live, sleep, or survive in less-than-ideal circumstances as long as he feels in control of the situation. -He can be enticed by valuables and gold because they make the immediate future easier, but he doesn't seek a life of vast riches. -He is not an alcoholic but probably has a binge-drinking problem. -While he is fond and respectful of animals, he has no issues killing them if the situation calls for it. -He pretty much always believes himself to be the most impressive person in the room. -He is not a vain man, but very much likes the way that he looks and to have it be acknowledged by his partner. -He believes faith, religion, and gods to be a waste of time.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

I might be one of the few fans who don’t really see how Galadriel was sidelined in Season 2. Her connection with Nenya and her growing into her ring-bearer role was such a huge plot throughout the season, as well as her connecting to other races of Middle-earth, namely the Orcs. She’s also starting to understand she can’t possibly fight Sauron alone (which was her character arc in Season 1 and Season 2).

The show is called “Rings of Power”, Galadriel is the keeper of one of those rings of power. There is no way she can be sidelined, because she’s at the core of the story. The fact she’s not doing direct battle doesn’t change that.

If you are expecting Season 1 Galadriel moving forward, I’m afraid you’ll end up disappointed because that’s not her character arc in Tolkien lore during the Second age. The problem here is they moved her First age character to the Second age, and it’s creating a bunch of problems story-wise and a process that should last a few centuries looks instantaneous.

There are so many Galadriel plots the show hasn’t dealt with yet and it has nothing to do with Lothlórien. I see many fans worrying about her founding it and staying there barefoot and pregnant in Season 3. I don’t see any TV show, in this day and age, doing that to a female lead, even if and when Celeborn returns. And we know he will, because the showrunners confirmed it last year, we just don’t know when, so it can be Season 3, 4 or 5.

And this is why I don’t think we’ll see Celebrían on the show (maybe pregnant Galadriel in the epilogue or something). The elves are at war with Sauron, and will be until the end of the show. Everyone likes the bring up the legendarium, except for the fact Elves don’t have children during wartime. Celebrían was suppose to be born already during the show’s timeline, because she was born before the War of the Elves and Sauron (which started in Season 2 and will continue in Season 3), and we have the War of the Last Alliance next (Season 5):

We still have to see:

Galadriel growing into her political role (Lothlórien is not only a safe haven from evil, but a policial center, too); we already saw her as a commander and a war strategist, but the political side of her character has yet to be explored by the show;

Galadriel’s powers: she has telepathic powers (in the lore she uses them to talk to Frodo and Elrond); she can see into other beings’ minds, too. Her magical artifacts (mirror, phial, etc.) will probably be during the Lothlórien arc, though;

I would love for the show to explore her connection with the Dwarves (to connect to her gifting three strands of her hair to Gimli on the Third age);

I really want her to meet Gandalf, and explore the beginning of that friendship;

Actually my biggest concern about Galadriel in Season 3, and if blood binding theory is correct, is the show giving us some weird “Exorcist” stuff, with her being locked up somewhere for her “own protection” against Sauron. This would be absolutely awful, and I hope they don’t go there.

Sure, give me Galadriel wrecking stuff up with her new found powers. The show can even give me “Samara Morgan Galadriel” Peter Jackson style and other characters terrified of her, but do not lock her up, please.

The wisest way to approach “blood binding” is following the Harry Potter-Voldemort route (ironic); with nightmares, visions and access to Sauron’s mind and plans, and vice-versa. Galadriel is tormented by it but goes about her everyday life, pretending everything’s fine, until the climax of the season.

And enough of her feud with Elrond; he’s the Sam to her Frodo in the Galadriel/Frodo parallel the show is doing. His character needs to be supportive of Galadriel, and her emotional rock like Sam was to Frodo.

[middleearthpixie]

Can you please write a fic where Thorin falls in love with a human girl, but he thinks she is disgusted by his looks? 🙏

Hi there, Nonny!! I know it took me forEVER, but here you go and i hope you like it! 💜

The Harp

Summary: You and Thorin are friends, but then you find out his feelings for you run deeper, and he’s holding back because he feels he is not good enough for you.  

Pairing: Thorin x fem!Reader (post-sack of Erebor, pre-quest for Erebor)

Warning: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.7k

***

He came into the dining room at the same time each evening and always sat at the same table—the one in the far corner, which was also the darkest corner of the room. He was polite, but kept to himself and you noticed how he always sat with his back to the wall and rarely did his eyes pause from scanning the room. 

The other diners eyed him with just as much suspicion but then again, they all eyed each other with suspicion as well. It was second nature to this lot, as they came from all four corners of Middle Earth. No one was actually from Emyn Vanya. No, every warm body had come from somewhere else to this tiny village on the outskirts of everywhere and yet somehow in the middle of nowhere. Some came to start over. Some came to forget. Some came to do both and some were just passing through. But everyone was from somewhere else and almost no one wished to discuss where that somewhere else might be.

You couldn't help but notice him, for he was a dwarf and the Grey Gander did not see many dwarves in their dining room. And not only that, but he was a handsome dwarf, to boot, with black hair, touched here and there with hints of silver, that spilled over his shoulders in a long tangle of curls. His most striking feature was his eyes, however, for they were the most piercing shade of icy blue you’d ever seen. There was a hardness within those pale eyes, one belied by his polite demeanor and deep, if soft, voice. 

Night after night, this man came in alone. He sat alone. He spoke to no one other than you when you approached to take his order, just as you did this evening. He was polite, if reserved, and spoke only when absolutely necessary, which was an interesting change from the patrons who grew louder and more opinionated as they dove further and further into their cups. 

“Welcome back,” you said with a smile as you approached him. “Might I fetch you a drink to begin?”

“Thank you. A tanked of ale would suit.”

“Of course. And do you know what you’d like or are you still trying to decide?”

He looked up at you with those striking eyes. “The hunter’s stew.”

His order never varied and you were certain you could just bring him a bowl of the stew without asking, which was why you couldn't resist a bit of playing with him. “I think we should start calling that your usual. Perhaps we should change it on the menu itself.”

That earned you one of the dwarf’s rare smiles. “I am not so certain that is necessary.”

“Well, you’ve been in here eight of the last ten nights and have yet to order anything different.” You couldn’t help teasing him. You sensed a hint of sadness in him, one that might explain the hardness in his eyes. And while it was a bit of a risk, teasing this man you didn’t really know, you had to admit, his smile made the risk worthwhile.

“But,” you added, taking your teasing further than you normally did, “you would have to tell me your name first. I certainly cannot ask to rename it Dwarf Stew. That would give the wrong impression, don’t you think?”

A darkness flashed through his eyes and you knew you’d overstepped. Your mind raced as you struggled to come up with something to smooth over his obviously ruffled feathers, knowing your employer would be furious if your flippancy drove away a paying customer. “I mean… that is… I apolo—”

“No,” he interrupted softly, shaking his head, “there is no need to apologize. And you’re right, it would sound odd. So, I suppose then, it would only be fair to tell you my name, wouldn’t it?”

Your heart beat a little faster at that. Perhaps it was but your imagination, but his voice sounded lower than it normally did. Lower and bit growlier. Had he, by any chance, noticed you the way you’d noticed him?

No, that was madness talking. Very few people noticed you aside from being their serving girl. You tended to blend into the background far too easily and since so many people in Emyn Vanya were only passing through, they paid little heed to you.

Still, that didn't stop you from replying, “It would, yes.”

To your surprise, that earned you a laugh. A genuine, honest-to-goodness laugh and one that sent flutters through you as it rolled across the small table in your direction. Like his voice, it was low and silken, and those flutters made you forget your own name for a moment.

“Very well,” he nodded, his eyes meeting and holding yours, “I am Thorin.”

You offered your name in return and added, “It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Thorin.”

“And yours as well.”

Heat climbed into your cheeks and you ducked your head, saying, “I will be back in a few moments with your ale,” you hesitated, then added, “Thorin.”

“I will be here.”

Thorin sat back as you darted off and couldn't believe his cheek. What had possessed him to even think to flirt with you? Your interest had to be only because he was a paying customer, because there was no way a woman as beautiful as you could possibly be interested in him. 

The first time he stepped into the Grey Gander, he’d noticed you at once, noticed how easily you smiled and joked with the tavern’s patrons. Your laughter was a silvery melody that made everyone turn in your direction and smile even if they had no idea what it was that made you laugh. 

He noticed everything about you—from that amazing smile and intoxicating laughter to your beautiful eyes and easy grace with which you moved about the crowded dining room. You never seemed impatience, or irritated, and even when someone gave you a hard time about something, you never lost your temper and somehow managed to defuse the most volatile of situations. 

The second night he’d come in, he’d witness such a scene, almost reaching for his sword, propped against the table, when the giant of man actually grabbed you by the arm. He had no doubt he’d have intervened if you needed it, but you didn’t. You smiled at the man as you peeled his fingers from your wrist and very sweetly informed him that if he touched you again, you’d turn him from a rooster to a hen in one fell swoop. 

It was at that moment, Thorin lost his heart.

A foolish notion at best, as you would never feel about him the way he did you. Why would you? He was a dwarf. He had no home. He had been in line for a throne, but now supported himself by moving from place to place, taking work where he could find it. 

That was what brought him to Emyn Vanya. His trade was blacksmithing and the village needed one. So, there he was, in the dining room of the Grey Gander, admiring you from afar and wishing he stood a chance at winning your hand. 

It was just as well, for what did he have to offer you? A king with no kingdom was no better than a pauper, really. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t compete with the men of Emyn Vanya, who were all taller, slimmer, and far more attractive than he certainly was. You would be a fool to even consider him.

But, he watched you from afar, watched as you moved from table to table, how you brought a beaming smile to the face of an old crone, how you soothed angry children bickering over a toy, how you made a crying infant smile by making silly faces until they could do nothing else. 

How you focused on him as if he was the most interesting man in the room and not, for lack of a better phrase, a homely, homeless refugee. 

If only…

He sighed as you approached with a tankard in one hand. His heart beat so much faster when you met his gaze. His mouth went as dry as the plains between his lost kingdom of Erebor and the city of Dale after the dragon Smaug torched it from one end to the other.

You set the tankard before him. “Your supper will be ready in but a few minutes, Mr. Thorin.”

Mr. Thorin. He smiled, shaking his head. “No Mister. Thorin is just fine.”

“Oh, well that wouldn’t be proper now, would it?” Your eyes almost sparkled as your easy smile curved your lips. “After all, we only just met.”

“This is true,” he nodded, reaching for the tankard. Then, on impulse, he added, “Perhaps you might join me one evening?”

You looked taken aback and he immediately berated himself silently. You fool! What is wrong with you?

But then you smiled. “I think I would like that. I have an off night tomorrow. Would that work for you?”

He was stunned, not only by your agreement, but by your suggestion. No woman ever approached him that way. He’d always been the one to ask. You were bold and he admired that. So, he nodded. “That would work just fine for me.”

“Wonderful. What time?”

“Half seven?”

“Half seven it is,” you told him. “And I’ll be back in but a moment with your supper.”

****

What were you thinking? How could you just blurt out an invitation to him that way? He must think you a harlot, or a wanton woman for doing so. 

But at the same time, as you smoothed a hand along your skirts, you had to admit, you looked so forward to seeing him without having to wait upon him. It was a nice change of pace for you. A break in the monotony of your life that was work, sleep, and more work.

You’d told him where you lived, a rundown little flat above the florist’s shop, and at half eight, when the knock came at the door, you nearly jumped clear out of your skin. Then, laughing at your foolishness, you hurried to the door, before he thought you’d changed your mind and left. 

You smiled as you pulled open the door. “You are early.”

“I allowed myself extra time in case I found myself lost. I’m still new to these parts and this town takes a bit of getting used to.”

“If you remember the streets run east and west, and the avenues run north and south, you might fare better.”

He bobbed his head. “I would, but there are three florists on this street alone.”

“It is a very competitive business in Emyn Vanya.”

“So I’ve noticed.” 

You hesitated a moment and then stepped aside. “Come in.”

As he stepped over the threshold, you tried not to dwell on how shabby your flat was, with its scratched and scuffed hand-me-down furnishings. After you paid your rent and made certain there was food on the table, there was not much money left for luxuries such as nice furniture. Normally, it didn't trouble you. This was your home and you thought it cozy, if a bit rundown. But, when you tried to see it through Thorin’s eyes? 

You saw exactly how awful it must have looked to him. Threadbare sofa. The armchair had a hole in the cushion thanks to a broken spring, which meant that not only was stuffing peeping up from the hole, one received a nasty poke in the backside, should they think to sit there. 

And of course, there was that awful water stain in the far corner. You had no idea from where it had come, only that no matter how much you tried to paint over it, it bled through. You’d given up trying when paint fell into the luxury category.

But, he reached up for the frogs at his throat and then whisked his cloak off to drape over his arm. “This is lovely.”

Lovely? You looked about, wondering exactly what he found so lovely about it. “It’s a bit… ah… worn, don't you think?”

“Lived in, is how I would describe it.” He smiled at you. “Homes should be lived in. That is how they become such. Otherwise, they are but houses, flats, nothing more than buildings.”

You looked back at him. “Lived in?”

He nodded. “Lived in.” 

Then he looked back at you and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. Did he have any idea whatsoever as to how handsome he truly was? Because if he did, he certainly did not act as if he did.

Of course, you kept that to yourself, especially when that night, a deep friendship was born. You had dinner together on the nights when you weren’t working. You spent off days together, sometimes running errands with each other, sometimes just doing nothing. He had a knack for the acrostics printed in the village newspaper and the two of you spent your share of days or nights looking up which answers you thought would work. It didn't matter. He had quickly become your dearest friend and while you loved that, you’d also begun thinking that perhaps there was a bit more to your relationship than only friendship.

It was too bad he’d never given any indication at all that he saw you as anything more than a friend.

So you stayed quiet. Autumn gave way to winter and the Yule holiday was only a few days off when you made your way to Thorin’s forge at the northern end of town. A bitter cold wind whipped down the narrow alleyway where his shop was located and you didn't have to look to know you were near it. The carved wooden sign identifying the forge creaked on its hooks as it swung in the wind. Through the swirling snow, you could still make out the word etched into the wood. 

Blacksmith

Beneath that word, Thorin had carved symbols as well, and when you’d asked, he’d smiled and explained that they were a language called khuzdul, which was his native language, actually. He’d attempted to teach you some of it, and showed nothing but patience as you fumbled over seemingly simple words. Little by little, though, it became easier and left you wishing you had something like that to share with him. 

But then you found something. One night, over several goblets of wine, he confessed that he once played the harp, but had lost his when he’d lost his home, but that was all he would say about either the harp or what happened to his home. So, you’d saved a bit of your pay each week and put it aside and then went to the music shop at the far end of town and found what you’d hoped would be a suitable replacement harp. It wasn't a big, grand instrument, as those were far beyond what you could ever hope to afford, but you hoped he’d like it the same. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so excited and impatient to give someone a gift as you were this one, which was why you braved the worsening weather.  

So there you were, at the far end of a gray-shingled building with a roof in need of repair, listening to the almost melodic sound of metal striking metal. The closer you drew to his workshop, the warmer the air grew and as you rounded the corner, a blast of heat hit you square in the face. It was a welcome sensation as your cheeks felt quite numb from the cold. 

He had his back to you and heat shot through you at the sight of him, shirtless in deference to that blasted heat, the muscles in his back and along his shoulders bulging as he held a piece of iron in one hand, a hammer in the other. The clang rang through you when he brought the hammer slamming against the iron, again and again and you couldn't help but just stare. 

Your eyes roamed over his naked back, heavy with obviously well-earned muscle, and inked with black lines of varying sizes that covered his entire shoulder, stretched across his back, and into the opposite shoulder as well. You had no idea what the symbols and lines meant, but they looked very similar to the ones carved into the forge’s sign, so your guess was they were dwarfish runes or words.

The heat in the forge was brutal regardless of how cold it was beyond the walls. Sweat prickled along your back as you stepped closer. You didn't want to startle him. The iron with which he worked began with an orange glow, but slowly, as he pounded it flat, the glow faded and when he set down the hammer and used a pair of tongs to pick up the flattened piece and thrust it into a tub of water, steam actually rose from the tub.

“Thorin?”

He jumped, letting go of the tongs as he spun around and now heat shot up into your cheeks at the naked chest you found yourself staring at. Like his back, his chest was just as broad, with black hair swirled from one nipple to the other and down across his belly. More symbols had been inked across it, meeting with the design on his left shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” you stammered, tearing your eyes from that impressive sight to meet his startled blue eyes, “I was trying not to startle you.”

“What are you doing here?”

You hugged the package close. “I had to go and pick something up and thought while I was out, I’d stop by.” You peered around him, at the iron still resting in the water. “What are you making?”

“A sword.” He reached for the towel draped over the workbench and swept it across his forehead. “You should not be in here. It’s far too dangerous.”

“I will come no closer then. But tell me, who commissioned the sword?”

“No one. It is mine. I work on it when I’ve a bit of free time.”

“Might I see?”

“It’s not even close to being finished.” He came around the bench and stood before you. His black hair was damp at the temples. 

“You don't have to stop on my account, you know.” You took a step closer to him, the urge to reach out and touch him so powerful, it nearly overwhelmed you. You wish you had the courage to tell him how you’d come to feel about him, as you’d had when you’d left your flat. You’d left there full of fire and determined to confess your feelings for him, but unfortunately, by the time you reached his forge, that courage evaporated like the water in the tub had. 

“It would be rude of me to continue.”

“Not at all. I think it would be fascinating, watching you work.” 

His gaze shifted slightly to his left and you followed it to see what he looked at—a heavy dark gray henley lay draped over a chair by his desk. Without thinking, you shifted the package to one arm and reached out to catch him by the upper arm as he stretched for his shirt.

“Wait, don’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“Don’t?”

You nodded. “I—what is this?” You traced your fingertips along the thick black lines curving his shoulder, unable to believe your own brazenness but unable to halt your touch as well. 

“It’s my… my… it’s a raven,” he managed, his voice deep and huskier than usual. He cleared his throat. “The symbol of my clan, and my family crest.”

You could not keep yourself from tracing along those lines as little by little, the image of a raven wearing a crown slowly showed itself to you. You’d held back from telling him how you felt for so long, now that the opportunity to perhaps go beyond friendship had presented itself and you were not about to let it slip by. But… you had to be careful. It was a delicate matter and that called for delicate handling. The last thing you wished to do was destroy your friendship with him.

With that, you lowered your hand “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“This is for you, by the by.” You pressed the package toward him. “I know Yule isn’t for several more days, but when I went to pick this up, I grew far too impatient to wait.”

He stared down at it. “What is it?”

“Well, you have to open it to find out.”

He took the package and slowly unwrapped it and then just stared, his blue eyes growing shiny as he murmured, “How did you know?”

“You told me, silly.” You nudged him with your shoulder. “Remember? We were talking about how my neighbor plays the harpsichord and how awful it sounds and you told me you once played the harp. So, I asked Mr. Trumble if he could find me a harp for you and he did me one better. He made this.”

“He—” those blue eyes met yours, wide and incredulous—“made this?”

You nodded. “He did, indeed.”

He gazed down at the harp, and then back at you. “I—this—this is beautiful. I thank you.”

“There is one condition to it, however.” You nudged him once more. “You must play it for me.”

“Oh, I couldn't now. I’d be far too rusty.”

“Well, once you flake off all the rust.”

“Fair enough.” He offered up a smile brighter than any you’d ever seen from him. “You shouldn’t have done this, though. Save your wages, don’t spend them on me.”

“I didn't mind.” You shrugged as if you spent that kind of money all the time. “And it’s Yule, so it was but a small sacrifice.”

He stepped closer. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, you know. I will treasure it. And you.”

And with that, he leaned in and to your surprise, pressed his lips to yours. You froze at first, caught by utter surprise, as this was the last thing you’d expected him to do. For one maddening moment, you wondered if perhaps you were just imagining it.

But then, his lips moved softly against yours and your toes actually curled in your sensible boots when he brought his hands up to cup your face, and you knew that this was, in fact, actually happening. And how wonderful it was! The sensations that rippled through you were soft and sweet, the crisp, coarse hair around his mouth tickling at first, but then you found you didn't mind it so much as it was a caress of its own. 

Your head did a slow spin, his kiss leaving you lightheaded and when your hands came to rest on those massive upper arms of his, your fingers pressed into muscle that greatly resembled stone of their own accord. You were afraid your weak knees might buckle on you at any moment.

His kiss was slow and sweet, teasing and gentle and when his lips parted and his tongue swept gently along yours, your head spun even faster. A rush of heat swept through you. Your lips tingled. Your heart beat harder and faster and it took every bit of will you had to not melt right into his arms. 

When he drew back, his eyes were soft, swirling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place and he seemed as breathless as you were as he murmured, “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time now.”

“What?”

He nodded. “I do and I did and now I just want to do it again.” Then he paused, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his smile, into his eyes, “Unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t.”

“No, I’d not rather that at all,” you told him, smiling as you curved a hand against his cheek. “In fact, I’d like it very much if you would do it again. And again. And I think you should keep doing, no matter where we might be.”

A low chuckle rumbled up from the depths of his chest. “So, I am not about to send you screaming into the snow?”

“Hardly.” 

“Are you certain? I mean,” he rubbed his bearded jaw ruefully, a sheepish smile coming to his lips, “I know people whisper about me and poke fun at me behind my back.”

“They whisper about you because they are fascinated by you. And no one pokes fun at you. I know they think you’re quite an excellent smithy, judging by what I’ve heard. And I won’t even tell you what the women say about you.”

To your surprise, his sheepish smile faded and a darkness came to his eyes. “I can only imagine.”

“Have I said something wrong? I thought I was complimenting you. Do dwarves not like to hear how handsome they are thought to be?”

“Handsome?” He snorted as he shook his head. “That’s kind of you, but I’ve seen my own face and that is not how I’d describe it.”

“Well, perhaps you should but have Mr. Sinclair examine your eyes, for you are not only handsome, but very handsome.”

He stared at you, clearly not believing a word you said. “Thank you, but you are just being kind, as you’ve been since we met.”

“Thorin,” you caught his hands in yours, “I’ve been wishing you’d notice me as more than simply your friend, that you’d kiss me, and perhaps I’ve been too brazen in taking the first step. If you wish me to leave you alone, I will.”

“Leave me alone?” His eyes went wide and he shook his head once more. “No, no, I don’t wish that at all. In fact, I—”

A scarlet flush swept up into his cheeks and he went quiet. You waited for him to continue, your heart hammering away at your ribs. All you wanted was for him to pull you into his arms, to tug you flush against that massive chest, and kiss you until you forgot your name.

“You what?” you asked softly.

“I lied. About the sword.” He smiled then. “It’s for you, actually. For Yule. I meant it to be a surprise.”

“For me? But I don't even know who to wield one.”

“Worry not, for I will teach you. When the weather breaks.”

“You did this for me? You would do that for me?”

He nodded. “I would do anything for you, you know.” His eyes softened then as he smiled. “I love you.”

This was the last thing you ever expected him to say and you could only stare at him for a long moment, as your stupid brain forgot how to process words. The best you could muster was a whispered, “What?”

“I love you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, but how could I when I thought you would be embarrassed to be courted by me. So, I relegated myself to knowing we would only ever be friends, but now…”

“Embarrassed to be courted by you? Are you mad, Thorin? Are you absolutely and completely mad? Because you would have to be to think any woman alive would be embarrassed to be courted by you.” You shifted to wind your arms about his neck. “And no one has ever made something for me. At least, not something as beautiful as a sword. So, if I didn't already love you in return, I would have most definitely fallen at this moment.”

He smiled. “So, all this time, it would’ve only taken a sword to win your hand?”

“I’m a very simple woman, Thorin. You should know that by now.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he eased his arms about your waist, pulling you flush against him. He leaned closer, his lips just brushing yours as he murmured, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

You tried to think of something witty to reply with, but then his lips met yours once more and rendered words unnecessary.

***

Like it? Love it? Reblog it! Comments are also welcomed!

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketchy-loo6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Some Much-Needed Downtime TBH

ok I kinda read these species-swap chapters quickly without commenting 2 nights ago bc I REALLY wanted to catch up to the show, and honestly I didn't have much to say? It was a fun showcase of some different species talents, and introduced multiple fun problems for the characters to solve [takes notes in DM]. But it didn't seem to move either plot or characters forward much. Some notes:

Honestly it's surprising that there's only been 1 count of food poisoning so far, when they're trying SO MANY new things. One must credit Senshi's cooking skills!

This might be the single funniest joke so far:

I've seen multiple posts saying Senshi's elfsona reveals him to be feminine by dwarf standards, and I'm genuinely BAFFLED by that take because it is SO obvious that Senshi's elfsona reveals him to be 1. the Hottest Man You Have Ever Met, and 2. HAIRY. We have seen 0 other elves with facial hair. I dug up that showcase of different elves and 0 of them have facial hair. In the Tolkienien lore from which all modern fantasy, or certainly this sort of fantasy, is derived, exactly 2 elves in the history of the world are said to have had facial hair. Elf!Senshi has a tiny little moustache. Elf!Senshi isn't feminine, he is the HOTTEST, HAIRIEST bear in the metaphorical gay club.

...it's possible that he's more of a himbo than we realize, though.

I don't know what's up with Kensuke and I AM worried that it's being directed by the demon. I want it to be Laios's friend so bad...

It occurs to me that "the winged lion is actually the demon at the root of all of this" is probably the biggest spoiler I've gotten, and I didn't even realize how huge a spoiler it was because I DIDN'T get spoilered for the fact that, so far as the characters know, the lion is supposed to be a helpful god. Don't play with spoilers, kids! Even if you want to read the juicy meta!

This initial fight with the gargoyles is probably my new second-favorite "Laios is really quickly analytical and problem-solving in combat" moment (the living armor fight is still #1). He sees how everyone is failing, prevents more problems as he can, realizes they can't win and puts together what pieces they need to get out. In group social dynamics, he's a mediocre leader at best, but he's a superb combat tactician.

Laios is just living in his own little after-school special, and I love him for that.

That first panel is definitely support for the theory that the 50-60yr life expectancy of "short-lived" races like tallmen, orcs, kobolds and halffeet is shorter than it should be, relative to their ages of maturity, because the long-lived races control and hold most of the resources. It's even possible that their ages of maturity SHOULD be even older, but social conditions force them to become "adults" at a younger developmental age than dwarves, gnomes and especially elves!

Panel 3 is Marcille mentally shoving Chilchuck higher on her list of Lives to Extend by Whatever Magic I Can Learn.

I love how the way they figure out that the mushrooms' effects are easily reversible is literally by thinking through the greater social worldbuilding implications of the effects.

^This is the single most Dad we've ever seen Chilchuck...topped only by that 'carry child like a football' a moment later. Actually, he yeets Marcille a LOT while tall - here, over the jump in the travel montage, with Laios to make a loop for the gargoyle...which I'm dead certain is an indication of how he physically treated his daughters. Those kids got casually, affectionately tossed like salad.

.

AND THAT'S WHAT WE CALL FRIENDSHIP.

...okay maybe I did have several thoughts about those 2 chapters.

.

"[Falin] was much tougher than I was. I hear she and our parents still write to each other" is SUCH a line for painting a picture of Laios and Falin's childhoods, and Laios's feelings on it.

.

you can keep your Kabru Wink(TM)s, I am weak only for the Laios Fond Little Smile(TM).

.

I love how Senshi is still musing on this soul = egg metaphor, and I LOVE how both times now that we've seen Laios genuinely lose his temper, it's because someone was saying "why are you just being excited about eating monsters when Falin is in danger?!", and he's snapping because he is fucking NOT dismissing his sister in favor of eating monsters, he is doing EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER to save her and it just so happens that the only plans with a smidgen of success involve leaning into eating monsters. And by trying to stop him from that, you're stopping him from saving Falin.

.

Laios, how tf do you remember the Wink? I'm 99% sure Kabru never once winked in your interactions; I WAS looking for it. Was he just exuding wink energy? (I mean...yes.)

.

The dramatic irony jokes in this chapter are on POINT. Chilchuck: "There's no way this thing still works" [tram door slams shut on his heels, cars immediately starts moving]. "You won't find a military company in the dungeon" [smash cut to Shuro, Namari and Kabru unhappily leading the Canaries into the dungeon]. Impeccable.

Stopping this one here in preparation for going nuts about implied elf-related worldbuilding in the next chapters!

[aramblingjay]

The weave of your hands (part 1/6)

Tags: Aragorn/Legolas, friends to lovers, canon era, braiding Words: 2.3K (so far)

Written for @aralas-week Day 1: Before Fellowship

Legolas’s skin was warm where he brushed against it, and his shoulders rose and fell in steady breaths as Aragorn’s fingers worked. Occasionally he would make a sound if Aragorn pulled a strand too hard or fumbled the flow of the braid—not a sound of pain, but that of a teacher, guiding the hand of his student. Or: 5 times aragorn does legolas’s braids + 1 time it’s the other way around

-

I. Rivendell

Aragorn found Legolas, as he knew he would, sitting on a bench in the outer courtyard gardens. He had not successfully approached Legolas without discovery since he was but a young boy whose footballs were too light to be of any notice, and therefore did not try. If Legolas did not welcome his presence, he would not be shy in saying so.

Legolas said nothing, so Aragorn took a seat at the opposite edge of the same bench.

They had not seen each other in several long years, though he still held great fondness for the memories they’d shared in the last decades, many in these very gardens. That Legolas was here appeared to be the only silver lining among the very grim tidings that had resulted in the Council being assembled at all. The guest rooms of the Last Homely House were already teeming with the Men, Elves, and Dwarves who would be present at the meeting, and a good many more besides. He had no doubt he understood only a part of what was truly at work here, but certainly the reappearance of the Ring, the emergence of the Nazgûl, and the gathering of the races all spoke of another desperate alliance against the powerful oncoming evil.

But all of that felt somewhat far away sitting here, in the comfort and security of his first home, alongside one of his first friends. Gandalf had passed along the news that Frodo had awoken in good health, and the Council was therefore set to take place the following morning. There would be time enough to think of the march against evil then. In this moment, he rather intended to focus on the good.

“I was surprised to hear you had come,” Aragorn opened, opting for the simplest of his thoughts. In truth, he wished to converse with his old friend but had little idea where to start, and pleasantries had never been their way.

“A pleasant surprise, I hope.” There was a strange tension in Legolas’s frame, a bowstring pulled taut when it should have been relaxed.

“Always, my friend.”

“I would not have been allowed to come had the circumstances not been so dire. And still worsening, if all I have heard since my arrival is true.” At last Legolas turned to face him, his lips curving into a small smile—what, on his elven features, amounted to the equivalent of a full-toothed grin from a man. “But it is wonderful to see you, Estel.”

Aragorn smiled back, as much at the sentiment as at hearing his childhood name. It had been a long time since he had been addressed as such, for nobody outside the realm of Elves knew him by that name. It seemed he was destined to collect names the way Dwarves collected jewels or maidens beautiful gowns, but there would always be a special place in his heart for this one, the first and simplest.

Legolas’s thoughts appeared to follow in a similar direction, for he continued with mirth in his voice, “Or should I say Strider? Thorongil?” Legolas’s voice lowered, turned serious. “Or have you at last embraced Aragorn, perhaps?”

No matter how long he lived, he would never, ever understand how his friend always seemed to cut to the heart of a matter as though guided there by Ilúvatar himself.

“I don’t believe I will have a choice, tomorrow, and I have made my peace with that.” His rather frosty encounter with Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor, seemed to him a sign of what would continue to happen if he did not shed the cloak of the Ranger. Whatever was to come next, it could not be Strider or even Estel who stepped forward to face it, but Aragorn. The question was only who would introduce him, and in what manner. “But for today, let me remain Estel.”

“I shall call you by any name you like, my friend, not just today but tomorrow as well. Know that it does not change who you are.”

Aragorn would not tolerate any other speaking to him about this topic in this way—indeed, even Lord Elrond was more careful in discussing his supposed destiny. But Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood, understood his specific circumstances in a way few others could, and as a result they had spoken of this particular topic at length. Aragorn understood Legolas’s words as both a kindness and a familiar reminder that embracing his ancestral name did not mean he had to walk the same path as his ancestors did. Between Legolas and Arwen, he had heard a version of that wisdom often enough that it had started to put down roots in his mind.

“I would that you call me Aragorn, tomorrow,” he said finally. “Of all who could do so first, I would be honored for it to be you.”

Legolas gave him a single nod, agreement and gratitude in one, and Aragorn knew they would speak no more this evening of things yet to pass.

They settled instead into pleasant silence. The time that lapsed before another word was spoken could have been mere minutes or a matter of hours, for it passed both slowly and in a great rush, as all moments of calm seemed to in his life. He could remember with vivid detail the battles, the injuries, the days of chasing or being chased, but memories of peacetime always fell through his fingers like grains of sand, fragmented and fleeting. With that in mind, Aragorn was determined to savor this moment—the chirp of birds, the rustle of trees, the golden glow of Imladris’s famed marble arches under the setting sun; and above all, the comforting presence of a friend beside him. There was no telling what the next day would bring, but this day, despite the series of solemn events that had led to it, was all the sweeter as the last port before the storm.

None came to disturb them. The moment could have extended until moonrise, if they had let it.

The Elves of Imladris, he had learned, had a patience to match the millennia of their lifespan. But not Legolas. Whether wood-elves themselves had a different comportment than the rest, or it was simply Legolas who was singular, he had not spent enough time in Mirkwood to say, though he suspected the latter. That Legolas did not act as though he was merely stepping where he had already trodden before, that he was willing to seize a moment rather than simply wait for it to find him as though floating through a life already lived, was likely one of the reasons Aragorn had been drawn to him as he had to no other Elf.

It also meant, more practically, that Legolas was willing to be the first to break their gentle silence.

“Tell me, Estel, did you walk here all the way from the keep merely to admire the trees with me?”

“And if I had?” He had not, but he had missed joking with his friend.

“I would say you have changed much indeed from the last time I saw you, if you have such a newfound appreciation for the forest. And that perhaps there is some wood-elf in you after all.”

Aragorn chuckled. He had long ago made peace with being a Man among Elves, always an outsider to their unique ways of interacting with the natural world. Even among Elves, he knew the Mirkwood bunch to be uniquer still, able to commune with the trees in a way that seemed closer to magic than anything tangible. “We both know there is no chance of that.”

“Indeed.” Legolas’s voice was light and dry, but the request for honesty could not have been clearer if he’d said speak freely aloud. That strange tension remained in his tight shoulders and hard jaw.

Aragorn chose his words carefully. “You are not braided,” he said at length. There was no need to voice the questions or implications contained therein.

“You saw that from your rooms and came rushing to fix it, did you?” Still light, but with a sharpened edge.

It seemed more elaboration would be necessary. Well, Aragorn had been called many things, too many, but shy to speak his mind had never been one of them. “If you are laboring under some guilt that the creature Gollum was allowed to escape Mirkwood, I hope I am not the first to say it is unfounded.”

“If I am unbraided, it is because I rode from Mirkwood as a messenger, not a warrior. Perhaps what you perceive as some window to my inner thoughts is merely a reflection of your own ignorance.”

If Aragorn had been any other, he would have backed slowly away from the topic and indeed this corner of Imladris entirely, such was the dark undercurrent in Legolas’s voice. But that had never been the manner of their friendship.

“As I think you know, I came rushing here from my rooms merely because I had hoped to see you,” Aragorn said evenly, and Legolas’s stony expression softened. “I will certainly not claim to know all the customs of your people, but I believe I know you, mellon-nin.” They had spoken thus far in the common tongue, for Aragorn did not want any who might drift through these gardens to learn just how deep his connection to Imladris and its elves truly went. Perhaps all the more for being the only Elvish they had exchanged, the Sindarin endearment had a clear effect on Legolas, who looked away and bowed his head. “I have seen you in times of both war and rest, and never have you been without some manner of braid.”

“Forgive me,” Legolas said quietly. “I should not have been cruel.”

“It is already forgotten.” Legolas did not have a cruel bone in his body, this Aragorn knew well. Whenever his usual composure slipped, it almost inevitably had to do with his father. Aragorn could imagine King Thranduil’s displeasure at the escape of Gollum, and certainly could imagine how he might express that displeasure to his only son, regardless of whether Legolas was truly to blame. “Mithrandir himself told me he believes Gollum has yet some role to play. Leave the past where it belongs, Legolas. Let us enjoy this relative peace while we can.”

The tension that he had noticed in Legolas from the beginning of their conversation seemed, finally, to dissipate. “When did you turn so wise, Estel?”

“I’ve had many a good teacher,” Aragorn said, meaning it. Legolas himself had been one for much of his youth. “Besides, it’s mostly selfish—I don’t like seeing you without your braids.”

Something twitched across Legolas’s face. Aragorn waited for it to take shape, employing what he had learned of patience over the years.

“Would you like to put them back in for me?” Legolas asked at last.

Aragorn could not stop his surprise from showing. “I think you’re overestimating my skill.” He gestured vaguely at his own hair, which looked a sight better than it normally did while he was out in the wilds, but remained, stubbornly, an unruly mop of tangles and curls. “Although I don’t see how you could.”

Legolas smiled. “Proficiency requires practice, does it not? Come, Estel.”

“If you are sure—”

“I am.”

“—then it would be my honor.”

Aragorn rose from the bench and walked around it to stand at Legolas’s back. He reached out and tentatively ran a hand through the fine elven hair, attempting to learn its form. As a child, he had perhaps attempted to braid Elladan or Elrohir’s hair, but it had been many years since his fingers had been put to such a delicate task. He had a Ranger’s hands, large and coarse and shaped for strength, not the nimble dexterity required for this.

But Legolas had asked. And indeed, despite not knowing any of the customs involved, he could guess at the significance of being extended such an invitation.

Closing his eyes, he attempted to picture Legolas’s usual style. It was easier than he imagined, for he had spent more than a little time contemplating that lovely face—most of his hair would always hang free, held in place by narrow braids along his ears, and the rest would be gathered into a thicker braid that ran down his back.

He didn’t have the skill to attempt the more complicated main plait, and settled instead for weaving the thin braids at Legolas’s temples. It was not entirely dissimilar to tying knots, with which he was very familiar, but this was decidedly more intimate. Legolas’s skin was warm where he brushed against it, and his shoulders rose and fell in steady breaths as Aragorn’s fingers worked. Occasionally he would make a sound if Aragorn pulled a strand too hard or fumbled the flow of the braid—not a sound of pain, but that of a teacher, guiding the hand of his student.

It had been a long time since his hands had learned a new skill. Aragorn enjoyed the time it took to shape the braid around the curve of Legolas’s ear and down to his nape almost as much for that as for what he was quickly realizing was the magnitude of this gesture.

Men were not so easily shown an Elf’s back, or allowed to place their hands so close to an Elf’s neck and ears. Or indeed to engage in a ritual so deeply steeped in a custom and culture to which they did not belong.

“There are few others permitted this honor,” Legolas said, as though he could read the thoughts in the very movement of Aragorn’s fingers. “But none more deserving. If not for you, I would have arrived at the Council entirely unbraided.”

Instead, he wore to the Council his usual half-braid of an elegant fishtail down his back, nimbly fashioned as the sun rose—and two narrow braids at his temples, wispy and a touch messy in parts, unchanged from how Aragorn had weaved them the previous evening.

[jukkariart]

Companion banter with Alectris - Lace Harding edition

Alectris and Harding get along like a house on fire, despite their backgrounds and upbringing being as different as they could get.

Alectris: Did I get it right? You worked for the Inquisition? 

Harding: Yes! I’ve done a lot of scouting for them, seen most of Southern Thedas. 

A: You have to tell me all about it. 

*depending on Inquisitor’s race*

(qunari) A: Is it true that the Inquisitor was a Qunari spy? 

(elf) A: I heard that the Inquisitor was Dalish and could shape shift!

(human) A: Someone said that the Inquisitor was actually a Tevene Dreamer? 

(dwarf) A: The Ambassadoria said that the Inquisitor came from a forgotten Thaig!

H: What!? No!

***

Harding: You’re with the Shadow Dragons, right? Like Neve? 

Alectris: Somewhat, yes.  Have you met Lorelei, the front? My shop does something similar. 

H: Your shop? 

A: My family has owned the place for a few generations. Don’t get hung up on that. 

***

Alectris: Lace? Is it true that you only have surface dwarves in Ferelden? 

Harding: What do you mean? If a dwarf sees the sky it makes them lose their caste, so they come up and live on the surface. How else could it be in Ferelden? 

A: Well, the dwarven embassy is carved deep into the ground beneath Minrathous, some of the emissaries never leave the deepest chambers. 

H: You’re kidding? I thought that Tevinter only respects humans? 

A: I guess the desperate need of lyrium puts things into perspective. 

***

Harding: Do you ever get tangled up between your sword and the magic? 

Alectris: I’m sorry? 

H: I mean, do you sometimes mix your moves up? Throw your sword instead of a fireball? 

A: *laughs* Doesn’t really happen anymore. But you should have seen me flailing when I started. 

A: You’re dealing with this new magic thing way better than I did. 

***

Harding: Have I heard some lute from the armory? 

Alectris: I… No, surely not. Maybe someone playing in the kitchen? 

H: I might have believed you if I wasn’t there at the time. 

H: Sounded really good too! 

***

Alectris: So… is It true that magister Dorian Pavus was part of the Inquisiton? 

Harding: Yes! He was part of Inquisitor's inner circle! Traveled with the team nearly everywhere!

A: *laughs* I cannot believe this. Dorian Pavus, his fancy clothes and even fancier mustache in the Ferelden wilderness. 

A: What would I pay to have seen it. 

***

Harding: Alectris! When did you learn inquisition songs? 

A: Some of them I knew before, just had no idea where they came from. 

A: A few others I had to ask around for. 

H: That’s amazing! Oh, we could have a singing evening instead of the book club!

H: Do you have a favourite song?

A: Oh, yes. I like that song about a certain Inquisition scout. 

H: What? No!

***

A: Scout Lace Harding…

H: Yes? 

A: Swift and cunning…

H: Stop it! It’s embarrassing! A: Her arrows cut you down to size H: If you don’t stop I might as well! 

***

H: Do you know how to dance? 

A: Yes. And whatever your next question is, no. 

H: I didn’t even say anything!

A: I know. But no, I’d give my leg to a dracolisk before I agree to anything. 

[sirenthegalaxycollector]

Criticisms of Veilguard

After playing the series for most of my adult life, I can confidently say that this is one of the few games where I could feel how much the leads did not want to be making this game and simply didn't respect or enjoy the world they were working within. I strongly believe that both these things contributed to the lack of understanding of the societal intricacies of the world and the disdain with which they consider their consumers. Its a miss on so many levels, but for me, personally, its the obvious corporate propaganda.

In a time where our real world is experiencing fascist ideals spreading like a wildfire fed by the fear of disrupting the status quo, anything claiming to be art media has a responsibility to try and give people a way to explore their fears. To try and open their perspectives to a different viewpoint, or to model options other than staying the course simply because of fear. This could have been a game about different informal organizations coming together to ease the world through a drastic change, and exploring the consequences of that change. It could have examined Tevinter's relationship with the Evanuris. Could have explored the ways in which they have historically profited off hiding the origins of their magical and technological advancement by building a society that marginalizes the very races who's pasts they plunder for their successes. Could have shown organizations like the Lucerni, supported by unions and guilds, of which the shadow dragons could have been one, working together to reform Tevinter culture over the last decade, setting the stage for them to be better situated to handle a situation like the Veil coming down. Or perhaps making massive gains in the aftermath, because it would be pretty hard for a mageocracy to continue to maintain status quo when magic is more accessible. On the subject of the Shadow Dragons, I strongly dislike that they named this anti-slavery organization that, because its just too close to the hierarchical titles of a certain racist cult in the u.s.a. Snakes Serpents would have been a better choice, there's the alliteration with shadows and, more importantly, it would have been a cool little nod to indigenous American cultures (and maybe others but I am most familiar with the mythologies of the Americas). Not to mention, Fenris should have been in this organization, he is alive in canon and would absolutely help organize slave rebellions. There is no justice when the Veil remains. Mythal and Solas made the Titans tranquil. That is where the Rite of Tranquility must come from, taking the lore from prior games into account. No wonder he disapproves so greatly in DAI when you use that option. With the Veil left standing, we still have the Titan/Dwarven souls trapped in the Fade. There is no way that Harding, the Inquisitor, or Rook would find that an acceptable solution after everything they have learned. I do not think anyone in the Veilguard would consider that acceptable. Yet, Veilguard completely avoids the topic of tranquility, it isn't even in the game's glossary. It is hard to not see that as a way of denying new players full knowledge of the atrocity committed against the Titans so they consider the Veil remaining just. Considering the real world parallels between the dwarves and elves of Thedas, and various ethnic groups of our world, the decision is, at best, poorly considered in its implications. In what world would being offered the chance to reunite these peoples with the soul of their cultures and choosing to keep them divided be considered just or right? Thedas, I guess.

This game had the potential to dig in and explore the biases present not only in the teams working on them, but also our world at large, something they were already primed to do with the set up of the previous games. Instead we got a game that reinforced the status quo, that framed societal change as a mistake, and reparations of any kind as the responsibility of the past, divorced from the people who continue to profit from the atrocities. I do not think that this messaging is coincidental. It is too much aligned with the interests of the corporate class that has eroded our societies so quickly. I don't know if less apathy would have changed the ultimate message. Perhaps the biases of society were too overwhelming to confront in the face of all that is happening around us. Or perhaps decision makers were unable to recognize the biases they held. Whatever the case, the game did not capitalize on the potential offered by the stories that came before it and that is disappointing.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for making jokes about "racism"?

BEFORE YOU CLICK YTA IMMEDIATELY: this is about dnd/fantasy races, like elves, gnomes, etc

i like dnd and dnd-esque media and have been watching dungeon meshi with a friend recently. a running joke i have is saying "hes racist?"/"that was just racism" etc when a character says something that stereotypes another race, or ill say a stereotype preceeded by "not to be racist but" etc. for example, stereotypes in this case include things like dwarves being good at blacksmithing, or elves being fancy and refined, or animal-person races having characteristics of the animal theyre related to. to be clear, im not making comments or jokes about skintones or other features related to irl human race.

normally i think something like this would be closer to specism, something that isnt actually a real social issue in real life, but in media like this they are called races, so i thought it was funny(?) to call it racism.

for the record i am not white but am very white-passing and basically count as socially white anyway.

am i the asshole for these jokes? they're pretty tame i thought and i would never joke about real racism, im only leaning on stereotypes that have nothing to do with real people and taking shots only at fictional races, but i worry joking about "racism" is bad form even if it is fictional racism. it also should be said i dont actually "believe" these stereotypes, obviously elves aren't real but even so i dont think they would have to be bound by stereotypes about their race or whatever. its just a silly joke, usually at expense of a character who just said something else stereotyping.

[dirthamen-enjoyer]

me just rambling about dragon age lore. spoilers for veilguard under the keep reading line.

i wish they had gone down the route of solas not telling the full truth of the evanuris. "they're tyrants and slave owners!" (paraphrase) but in actuality when they get released (ALL OF THEM BC I WANT TO SEE ALL OF THEM) it reveals that there are factions within. those who were actually awful tyrants, those who were lesser evils who never truly helped either side, those that were either secretly or openly helping solas in his rebellion. like imagine the idea of the evanuris that helped him willingly sacrificing themselves to create a stronger seal on the prison. or like the idea that they were genuinely betrayed and have a conflicting relationship with solas after being locked away for so long. i don't like that all the gods are just "tyrants and slave owners." give us variety. not everything should be so cut and dry. and yeah, i don't like that they're just all spirits :/ keep them mysterious immortal beings while solas is the spirit that is used and turned towards the conflict and war.

i also think taking the gods of a diaspora, especially one with clear influences, and making them all evil with no real moral ambiguity wasn't really the best way to go... i understand gods not being morally perfect because many gods within our religions aren't, but there are few that are just "evil" with nothing else to them.

i was going to talk about the reveal that elves are originally spirits that used the titans to become physical and the resulting war, but i got carried away and i think it might be it's own post lol. (it was more about the titans than elves)

i personally don't really like that idea that much because i don't think we need to be given explanations on how races are created. we don't fully know how dwarves came to be, only that dwarves lived with titans. we don't know the full story of qunari, we don't know the full story of humans. so why do we need to know the full story of elves?

i also don't like how the blight changed. i get why, because it can be used by ghilan'nain and elgar'nan, but it also just feels like a copout so they can use it more as a mechanic within the game. popping boils and making puzzles from the blight. taking away how it completely destroys land and taints every single being that comes into prolonged contact with it was not a good change in my opinion. the blight as it was and the taint adds pressure and consequences. they kind of did it with d'meta's crossing, but after that it "changed" more. show us ghouls, show us land actually dying. i loved walking around the western approach, seeing how the blight completely changed the land. i loved finding the silent plains concept art recently.

and to be honest, i don't know how i would have connected creation of the blight to a specific event so i'm not going to really talk about it.

oh and the old gods of tevinter. lame reveal that the dragons were just thralls of the evanuris. taking all these religions and connecting them to one group of people doesn't bring me joy. it makes the world smaller and it takes away the fun of fantasy. as an avid "let the gods being mysterious gods" person, i think the old gods of tevinter should be their own thing. have them be another enemy of the evanuris. you talked about multiple wars? there. another war. maybe it could even be the final wars that started while solas had his rebellion? and the forgotten ones are the old gods, locked away in the abyss (deep underground), while the evanuris are locked away in the sky (the black city / fade).

"how would the tevinter people worship them if they are locked away before humans are said to come to thedas?" easy. retcon. they already love doing that with little things. and honestly i feel like this would be a retcon that most people would not mind as much as other retcons. or, you know, expand on what yavana said in the silent grove about a time before the veil and high dragons in the sky.

was gonna say more but i don't know how to word it well so okie dokie i'm done rambling.