12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them
I'm going to shock everyone by not saying Sera here 😆 and of course I do love Sera, and I think I've made my case for why she is, at the very least, worth a deeper look. That said, she does have a very intense personality and some very pointed personal issues that can rub people the wrong way for valid reasons and I can understand why she's not for everybody.
I'm going to say Vivienne instead.
Vivienne honestly took longer to grow on me! I never disliked her, but she was a harder nut to crack. I think it's in large part because she is so reluctant to show vulnerability of any kind, and holds the player character at arm's basically from beginning to end. Sera for all her prickliness is not hard to get to know if you put in the effort. She will open up if you befriend her, and even if you don't, her personal pain points are so raw that she can't help showing vulnerability, even if it's in the form of anger and spite. Meanwhile I spent many playthroughs trying to wrap my head around Vivienne, trying to really understand what her deal was--not just why she is the way she is, I think that much is fairly obvious if you give it a minute's thought, but what she actually wants, does she have a character arc going on, and what is it all about?
I get into all that in this post on why Vivienne is in a much more tenuous position than she might appear during Inquisition. I think approaching her with that understanding not only contextualizes her actions and her attitude, but brings her desires and ambitions for the future into clearer focus.
I do think it's something of a shame that we don't have the opportunity to get closer to her in the game, even as I understand why it's in-character for her not to let us; I can imagine scenarios in which we might have nonetheless developed a closer friendship with her, as we can with other calculating and reserved companions such as Zevran or Isabela. I also feel that some of the quest design sells her short: in particular, her lack of any personal content in Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, and her personal quest's reliance on what I feel is a cheap "gotcha" hinging on a fairy tale reference that has no in-universe significance.
Nonetheless, I think Vivienne is a good character and worth a deeper look than she often gets.
Finwë was not, traditionally, the kind of nér who cried during sex. He took joy in the act, of making love and bringing pleasure to his favorite people, and was more likely to laugh than weep. But this—it was all too much. It was everything he had dreamed for endless Ages, separated from his wives. It was everything he had dreamed long before then, and now at last it was here.
“Finwë, Finya,” Míriel whispered, her warm, round body pressed close to his own. He buried one hand in her silvery hair, so fair, like Telperion, like Isil, like the stars, like her—and with the other he caressed the curve of her breast, so full beneath his palm, so alive. The last he had touched her she had been still and cold, so weary her hröa was no longer her own; the last he had spoken with her they had both been lifeless, distant, and her weariness had passed to him.
And behind him: “Husband,” murmured Indis, pressing kisses to his shoulderblades, her long golden hair draped over them both, so fair, like Laurelin, like Anar, like the Flame Imperishable, like her. The last she had touched him they had grown strained and distant, and their kiss was one of duty, of symbolism; the last he had spoken with her had been through ink, a letter promising that all would soon be well and he would return to her arms.
He had not returned: he had died, and left her alone, utterly.
At least, then, Míriel had returned. Míriel, who had sworn never to live again, found breath once more and rose from her bower in the Gardens of Lórien, and made her way to the house of the woman who had taken from her her husband. Míriel, who had thanked Indis rather than hated her, and come to love her even as Finwë had loved her.
He had thought, then, he would remain ever in Mandos, as penance for his greed, his desire for marriage and children beyond the bounds of what had been first granted him; as punishment for his failure in restraining his most beloved son’s endless fire. But he had been granted clemency at long last, and though he was unkinged, he was glad of it, for it meant his queens could hold him—both of them.
And so he wept, unashamed of his happiness. “Míri, Inya,” he sobbed, the bond between them, all three, glowing so bright and warm. Before it had been only him and Míriel, him and Indis, Míriel and Indis—but now it was the three of them in perfect harmony, their spirits mingling, Míriel’s red and Indis’ gold and his own dark silver winding together in gladness.
They were bare before each other, in fëa and in hröa, and their closeness was more intoxicating than any climax. Yet they came together in flesh as much as in spirit, Indis stroking him to hardness, guiding him with gentle hands until he slipped inside of Míriel, her folds embracing him as she sank down to meet the cradle of his hips.
She moaned lowly, her head lolling back, and he set his mouth upon her neck, kissing her. Indis joined him, bending over him, pressing them all closer together, and their lips met over Míriel’s throat. She gasped, rocking forward, making Finwë keen from the heavenly sensation of her around him, and then her mouth was at his, and Indis’, and he lost himself in their warmth, in their love.
Too soon Finwë spent, pulsing into Míriel, who cried his name as she followed him into her own release. She slumped back, breathing hard, and Indis crawled over Finwë to kiss her, pressing her long, lithe body against Míriel’s short, round one. Finwë’s tears began anew as he watched them, a study in contrasts, silver and gold: one pale, one dark, both beautiful.
Indis laid Míriel down upon their bed, mouthing her way down her hröa to the soft silver curls between her legs. Humming happily, she buried her head there, and through their bond she shared with Finwë the filthy loveliness of licking his seed out of her. Finwë was painfully hard again in moments, and Míriel enticed him with a whisper of a thought: Go to her. Give her what you have given me, that I may repay her service.
She was crouched over Míriel, and at her wife’s urging she lifted her rear into the air, spreading her legs for Finwë’s access. Too tempted by the slick dripping from her folds, Finwë knelt to drink from her, and as his tongue caressed her pearl her scream of surprise was muffled by Míriel’s flesh.
But the ache between his legs was too strong for him to resist for long, and soon he rose back up and buried himself in her willing flesh. Now Indis jerked up, her mouth dripping with Finwë and Míriel’s mingled release, and whined as Finwë filled her. Míriel sat up, latching her mouth upon one small, pert breast, and as he thrust into her Finwë brought a hand to play with the nipple of the other.
Indis shuddered and came before he did, this time, and went limp between her spouses, Míriel holding her up between them as Finwë chased his own release. Over her shoulder, Míriel kissed him, and again he sobbed in gladness, their bond blazing bright as he tumbled over the edge, spending half-in, half-out of Indis’ body.
Exhausted from joy, from exertion, Finwë fell back onto the bed, and Indis curled to bury her face in his chest. Míriel laughed softly, her happiness bubbling up in their shared mind-space, and she gently cared for them, licking them clean and then wiping down what was left.
“My wives,” Finwë croaked, his throat choked with emotion, as Míriel settled down on his other side, curling around him. “My loves...” I never thought I could have this. I never thought we could have this.
We do, Indis murmured.
“We have each other,” Míriel whispered. “My husband. Our wife.”
My loves; my spouses. Indis lifted her head just enough to kiss Finwë’s chin, then returned to her safe position in his arms. We have all of Arda left for us.
I will not leave you again, Finwë promised.
Nor I, Míriel added.
I know. Indis was slowly slipping into slumber, but her simple statement of trust was clear. I know.
yesss!!! sono al capitolo 13 il ritorno dei noldor!!! non ho pensieri troppo intelligenti per ora, ma im loving my bestie fëanor not gonna lie. la combinazione di: rottura delle leggi dell'ospitalità con un bagno di sangue di discutibile necessità + rifiutare un perdono angelico so hard l'arcangelo michele si mette a piangere + un giuramento che è praticamente fare speedwalking to your doom è uno slay per me. i wish him the best (tormento e sofferenza per lui e la sua famiglia) ma in modo narrativamente affettuoso <3
Okay! Hm... I haven't worked on Desmemoria since mid-July because I had a creative-hiatus related to TRSB and grad school but... Here is something that likely will not actually make it into the fic because of thematic and repetitive plot reasons (and all the rest of the parts I have written already are "day-of" at Sirion, involving Feanorians, and thus too good to spoil, lol). But this is baby!Legolas and that just can't go to waste, even if this is just the skeleton of an unusable scene labeled "notes from 7.18" in Scrivener...
“What happened after Balar?”
Thranduil blinked and looked down at his child, settled directly in front of him on that oversized pillow he often pulled from the sitting room chair when he was required to stay still. Legolas watched him with wide but serious eyes, so Thranduil picked up the thread of the story once more, and he hurried to its conclusion:
“Some of those who survived at Sirion were too grieved, and they went on Cirdan’s boats and sailed away to Valinor.”
“Why?” Legolas asked bluntly.
“Because they were tired.”
“Why?”
“Because, emlineg, they had seen much,” he reasoned patiently.
“You did not sail away…” He looked intensely at his father, and then a quick tilt of the head before: “Why?”
“Because I was born here, and had people that I loved here, and Middle-earth is beautiful, even amidst the sorrow—I did not want another place,” he answered directly.
“I will never leave here,” his son said with a quick ferocity. “These woods are…”
But he trailed off, then, young mind not quite able to express what Thranduil had long known: Legolas was rooted and entwined. These woods were him and he was the woods, and they spun through his body like twisted and questing vines, as intrinsic to him as organ and sinew…
“Well, whatever…” Legolas said after a moment, and he shook his head as if to clear those dizzying mists of thoughts too mature from his mind. “I still do not understand.”
“One day you will,” Thranduil said simply.
“But why?”
Thranduil did not answer, but Legolas answered himself in a sudden moment of revelation, and he huffed a small sigh.
“One day I will understand,” he breathed with frustration, “but only 'when I am older'...”
Thranduil smiled softly and tucked hair behind Legolas’ ears as his son gave a long, deep sigh.
“When you are older,” he confirmed.
He pressed a kiss to that crown of unruly hair, then, and took his son’s small hands into his own so they were palm to palm. The small fingers barely spanned the wide expanse of his hand, just stretching to the base of Thranduil’s long fingers.
But then Legolas shifted and grasped his hand tightly. “I am glad, I think,” he said assuredly, and he looked up into his father’s face, “that I am not older yet.”
Thranduil laughed and tugged him into his lap.
“I am mightily glad of that, too.”
Once my brain recovers and I make some progress on other projects, I'll be finishing drafting and posting the rest of this one, 6 chapters total! Thanks for asking! I've become quite fond of this one, despite its difficulty.
(The first two chapters can be read here, if you're not Sky and haven't already read them.)
“My advice,” said Maglor, “is not to sail to the blessed lands with the last kinslayer alive.”
“I already test their custom and law - I bring a mortal, and I sail unlooked-for, beyond the days of our exodus.”
“If the choice is between a dwarf and a kinslayer, I think they’ll take the dwarf.”
Steadily Legolas looked back at him, and the elder elf met his eyes, silvered and haunted, but resolute. “Someday,” said Legolas, “you will be alone of your kind on these shores, will you not? Some of my silvan folk will stay, but little camaraderie will that bring you, here.”
“Little camaraderie have I had, either, all these years when elven power still endured,” said Maglor. “I am well used to my solitude, and I know what I am. But I have not faded, and I do not think I shall.”
never seen | want to see(?) | the worst | bad | whatever | not my thing | good | great | favorite | masterpiece
I had to Google this one! I'm definitely interested in an independent film by a woman (written, edited, directed, produced, AND scored?!), and there are elements listed that appeal to me (such as the homage to '60s camp horror). But the particular kind of gender commentary it seems to have going on is fairly off-putting to me, so I'm ehhh. Possibly it's the kind of film where the execution is impressive or enjoyable enough for me to ignore themes or commentary that I'm not into, though? Not the kind of thing I feel like watching in the immediate future, but I'll put it on the list.
ok so IN THE PAST I probably would have just said strongly agree but!!! that was before I had the experience of being extremely on the receiving end of it and discovering that sometimes I Am A Sensitive Little Baby About This, Actually :'D
like, when I'm in the shoes of the one doing the betraying?? when I'm more or less an outside observer, engineering tragic narrative arcs to cackle over gleefully with others?? extremely sexy, A++, big fan.
.....but on the other hand, when *I* am on the receiving end it is not HOT, it is UPSETTING and RUDE and UNCALLED FOR and a thing other characters should NOT DO, ACTUALLY !! >:O
(shout-out to everyone who has had to deal with my unrepentant duplicitous gremlin ways 24/7 (and still has to deal with them bc learning that I can't take it apparently doesn't mean I'll stop dishing it out) (@Finrod/@ameliarating, ilu best cousin <33))
erran... it's gaia, I'd compeltely forgotten you had this blog sdfasd but that quiz... listen, I hope you can see the replies people write because I put my heart and soul into them. icb this
GAIA ajshj oh well it’s nice to catch up and I shall hopefully get to your submission today there were A LOT... OF TAKERS... I did not quite expect this to get so popular but :) You’re very welcome :))
