Took back up the keyboard and tacked out more of my fem!Bilbo fic. I like it and enjoy writing it; she allows for banter I find myself very comfortable with. I had a friend asked what gender swapping does with Bilbo and I told him that it has to do with how she would be brought up--with her specific parentage and community--as a female, as opposed to a male. Perhaps I’m mistaken, but I’m under the impression that women tended to be the household manager in the culture Hobbits are based on, and as Bilbo is an independent individual (monetarily, that is), as a woman, she will be more blunt and practical, simply out of habit and necessity. Although, I’m adding a layer of storytelling as perceived witchcraft in my characterization of Bilbo and Thorin’s perception of her. Ohp. I do believe I gave away my pairing.
It was the middle of the night. Why in the WORLD were there noises coming from the door?!
With the same terrible headache she had nursed since weeks, she threw a shirt on and pulled a skirt out of a laundry heap... all the while, there were still knocks from the door.
… damn this old house and it's acoustics, seriously. Whoever it was, they were certainly persistent.
She stared in the mirror and pulled the hair out of her face so she could appropriately snarl at them, because there was still knocking, goddamnit.
Bloody hell, seriously.
She tumbled down the stairs and finally opened the door: “WHAT!”
She started for a moment, because the person in front of the door was tall. She had snarled at his chest. Or at least his fidgeting hands there.
“Err,” those hands unfurled and continued fidgeting at his sides. He had a nervous smile. Apologetic. She wanted to accept his apology with a brick in those shiny white teeth. He was in general shiny white. Something knocked at the back of her head there, but... well... the headache was knocking louder, so she just hissed again: “Seriously, WHAT?!”
He ordered himself and nodded: “Well, I... you're a mermaid, right? So you ca-”
“What! I live at sea and I'm a mermaid, is that it, yes?! Wanted to see a mermaid, sure. No. GO!,” she grabbed the handle to crash the door shut again.
This happened sometimes. But with people she at least KNEW, though. She hadn't seen that dude in her life! No two-meter-whitebreads in her life lately. FUCK this.
Before the door could rattle in its angles – a satisfying loud noise for once – it was apparently held back and he peeked in through the gap.
The urge to slam it shut with this unhappy, wriggly smile in between was definitely high in her list of urges, but the smile opened and said: “Nono, miss... this house is not connected to the watersystem, 's all. Also exceptional beauty n all,” the urge to strangle him was added in this moment, but he continued, and everyone is civilised in this room, right?
He moved the door a little more open, carefully, standing again, now – bloody hell, he'd leaned forward and still had been tall - slightly more in the room and still very white. He looked very careful and thoughtful in general and it was generally grating my nerves, she was frowning, but he was still speaking: “I... uh... you see... my goldfish... I... he's depressed, I think, I'm worried, can you talk to him?”
… he looked like a puppy. Making him a bloody puppy was still on the table. But he had stopped fidgeting and took a deep breath and now looked just sad: “I'm really worried about him. He does not eat properly and doesn't come anymore and he's just... sitting there and is unhappy, so... I really need help, because the doctors don't find anything... could you please help me?”
There was a sad, giant white puppy half in my floor and asked me to talk to his goldfish. At 1 am in the morning.
… this was officially too ridiculous. The anger went and and she exhaled, unnerved, but resigned. This guy probably didn't even realise how ridiculous he was behaving. He was just worried about his... goldfish.
“... a tiny bowl is not a fit place for a goldfish,” she still snarled. Because people are stupid. And she ran a hand through her hair to calm her head.
“... he lives in a pond. He has enough space and his diet is proper for him... really, I... wouldn't bother you if I saw another way,” it helped that he had a calming voice, at least.
She stared at him, tired.
He blinked: “I... have a good pain medication at home, diclofenac, if you want.... or are allergic to anything... and you can send me away, of course, I simply don't know what to do anymore,” he said, looking like a defeated sad giant puppy and looks at his shoes.
… what the hell, I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway.
“... I'll talk to your fish. If you promise to never knock at strangers doors at 1 am again. Or mine. For that matter,” she huffed, while rolling her eyes. A public service it was, then.
“Oh? OH! Yes. I... won't do that anymore,” he nodded. Once, but there was a smile creeping up again. HE was more used to smiling, was he not?
… maybe he would wag a tail, too, if he had one.
That made her stop for a moment.
… she had heard too many bad jokes in her life, really.
She finally kicked his shin when he held the door to her own bloody house open.
